Never Too Late
by Reddhg87
Summary: Draco is given a choice at his trial between a one-year sentence in Azkaban prison or one year in exile. Wanting to avoid the wretched place already playing host to his father, Draco chooses exile in Egypt. There he trains to become a Curse Breaker, fulfilling the condition of his return to England that he must come back with the intention of being a functioning member of society.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own HP or make any profit from this story. It is for the enjoyment of the fans and an excuse for me to play out my plot bunnies. Photos in cover image are not mine, I just made the collage. Rated M for swearing, adult themes, and future Lemons. Draco is inspired by and based very heavily off of Tom Felton's Julian Albert from The Flash. The development of his and Hermione's relationship (in the beginning at least) will seem similar to that of Julian and Caitlin Snow. Because it is. I am also drawing inspiration from this pairing as well. All that being said, I take no credit for any instances, moments, scenes etc. that may make you go "this reminds me of The Flash", since the CW did it first, and I am just letting my brain run wild with the Dramione they created in Julian and Caitlin. So, again...any similarities are credited to the CW, I am only inserting Draco and Hermione. (Again, also not mine).

Summary: Draco is given a choice at his trial between a one-year sentence in Azkaban prison, or one year in exile. Wanting to avoid the wretched place already playing host to his father, Draco chooses exile in Egypt. There, he trains to become a Curse Breaker, fulfilling the condition of his return to England that he must come back with the intention of becoming a functioning member of society. Dramione slow-burn.

 **Note:** This chapter is going to feel like it is moving fast. It is. I am covering several years right in the beginning on purpose. I will be more than happy to answer questions in reviews if there is any confusion after reading. Thank you all! See you on the other side!

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Chapter 1 - June 8th, 1998

Cold.

All he felt was cold.

Did the Ministry intentionally keep the Department of Mysteries just above freezing to reinforce this feeling of gloom, Draco wondered as he was escorted by two Aurors down the black-tiled passage to the court room. The deeper into the department he moved the colder it seemed to become. At first, he thought there were Dementors waiting, considering the overwhelming despair that engulfed him when the lift had arrived on Level 10. But upon entering the courtroom, he was relieved to see none present. Then he remembered that the Ministry no longer used Dementors. So perhaps they did intentionally maintain a freezing charm over the department.

As he approached the high-backed chair in the center of the oval-shaped chamber, Draco looked around. More people had turned up to observe his trial than he had anticipated. His eyes easily picked out Potter, Granger, and Weasley. The first and last had the expected looks of disdain on their faces. But Granger appeared…sad. Perhaps she was merely reacting to the temperature and it was a look of discomfort. But then Draco noticed her eyes flick to his wrists, manacled together with a binding spell, and then back up to his face. No, he wasn't misreading her. She was genuinely upset.

Draco didn't have time to consider why, as he was being shoved into the chair. The spell on his wrists was removed only to be replaced once he laid his arms on the sides of the chair. Now he was effectively strapped down. Anger coursed through him. He was being treated like a criminal. In the Ministry's eyes, he was. He was on trial for crimes he had committed during the war. What exactly he was being charged with, he did not yet know. But Draco suspected, and the thought sickened him. He swallowed hard and looked up to the raised dais before him.

The newly-elected Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, sat there with a dispassionate expression on his face. Draco matched it the best he could, fighting down the urge to shake with the cold that had now seeped into his bones. He refused to show any weakness or fear. Especially in front of his peers.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Draco looked up again as Shacklebolt addressed him. "Son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black?"

"Yes." Draco responded in a clipped tone.

"You are brought here today to stand trial for acts committed during the course of the second war against the dark wizard known as Voldemort. Your charges stand thus: The attempted murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore on the thirtieth of June nineteen-ninety-seven. The use of the Cruciatus Curse for torture on the Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle during the summer of nineteen-ninety-seven."

Kingsley paused and set the parchment down. "An additional charge of kidnapping has also been added for the events that occurred in Wiltshire at Malfoy Manor over the Easter holiday this year. However, testimony has been provided, in which you were described as hesitant to identify Harry Potter on that particular evening despite coaxing from other members of the Malfoy family. With this testimony in mind, and the fact that your actions aided in the escape of Harry Potter and his allies that evening, it has been decided that this charge be dropped."

Draco flicked his eyes over to where Potter sat. His expression remained impassive, and he didn't meet Draco's gaze. He turned back to the Minister, letting out a shaky breath and fought the urge once more to shake with cold.

"Do you deny these charges, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No."

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"No."

Kingsley stared down at the young wizard. He was taken aback by the abrupt answer. He expected the boy to raise his voice and shout. He was not prepared for the finality in Draco Malfoy's tone. As though he had already resigned himself to his fate. He gave the pureblood a minute or so to respond, regardless. But the boy remained silent. Kingsley straightened the pile of parchment in front of him and folded his hands atop the documents. This was going to be over sooner than he had expected.

"Due to the nature of the charges against you, Mr. Malfoy, it would seem an Azkaban sentence to be unavoidable."

Draco swallowed. This is what he had feared. He would do anything to avoid Azkaban. His father had already been sentenced to life. And his mother one year of house arrest. What Draco wouldn't give to have her here right now. He could just imagine the look of horror on her face at the Minister's words. He swallowed again and looked down. There was nothing for it.

"However, it has been decided that the Ministry will present you with a choice."

Draco looked up. Surely, he had heard wrong.

"Additional testimony to your character, and certain reluctances that you displayed toward or while performing Death Eater acts has been provided as well." Shacklebolt continued.

Draco glanced once more at Potter. It would not have surprised him in the least if the raven-haired leader of the Golden Trio was the one who had testified to his so-called character. He faced the Minister feeling just a little less scared now.

"With this in mind, we present you with these two options: A one-year sentence in Azkaban prison without early release; or one year in exile and you must relinquish your wand. Let me add, Mr. Malfoy, that if you choose exile and wish to return to England after one year, you must have the intent of becoming a functioning member of wizarding society. Rehabilitation, if you will. If you choose not to return, know this," Kingsley paused and took a breath then let it out with hesitant, and almost forlorn expression in his eyes, "You will not be permitted contact with any acquaintances, friends…or family. Any attempt to make contact will be regarded as a criminal act and you will be put in Azkaban for the rest of your life."

Kingsley paused again. He watched the expression that crossed the pure-blood's face. Anger, relief, guilt sadness, and finally…defeat. He waited another minute to give the boy time to think.

"Have you made a choice, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco lifted his eyes. "I choose exile."

"So be it." Kingsley knocked his gavel down, finalizing the wizard's sentence. "You handed your wand over upon arrest on May third. By choosing exile your wand is relinquished until your one year is up. You will be allowed to return home this evening to gather any basic necessities you will need and be escorted to a Portkey. You may choose your destination, Mr. Malfoy. And remember, if you wish to return to England you must become a functioning member of wizarding society. It would be wise to consider your options during your time in exile. This hearing is now concluded."

The bindings on Draco's arms disappeared and he was hauled to his feet. Once standing his wrists were bound and he was walked out by the same two Aurors. It should not have been possible, but his heart felt a bit lighter. Only because he was not going to Azkaban. But he was to be leaving his mother behind on her own. She had already suffered one break down when his father was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Draco felt sure she was going to suffer another upon hearing that her only son was going into exile and may or may not return. Draco had not yet decided if he wanted to come back.

Right now, he was focused on the fact that he was spared the same fate as his father. At least he was getting the chance to see his mother before he had to leave.

Draco looked up as he left the courtroom and caught Granger's eyes again. They were filled with the same sadness. He felt his brow furrow, but held her gaze until she disappeared from his peripheral view.

He was escorted from the Ministry to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and given one hour to pack the things he wanted and say goodbye to his mother. As Draco stuffed clothes into an old bag he considered what would happen if he told the Ministry he didn't care where they sent him. They would probably just send him wherever, and without disclosing the location. But did he really want to leave it to chance?

Draco picked up the framed photo he kept on his nightstand and gazed at the smiling face of his mother and his two-year-old self playing outside by the duck pond in the garden.

"Twenty minutes." The Auror that was standing watch at his door told him.

"Yeah, got it." Draco snapped, stuffing the picture into his bag. He added a couple books and his journal along with a few pots of ink, sealed shut, and some spare quills. "Ready." Draco slung his bag onto his shoulder and grabbed his cloak from the back of his bedroom door.

Narcissa waited at the bottom of the stairs, her expression somber as she watched her son descend. He had just turned eighteen a few days ago. Still a child, and yet forced to become an adult before he was even of age.

"Draco, I could not have asked for more for you. I will be able to rest easier knowing that at least you are not wasting away in that prison." She pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his blonde hair. "Please be safe no matter where you go. And I hope that I will see you again in a year."

Draco hugged her back, not caring if the Aurors flanking them judged him for it. He had grown very close to his mother in recent months and it pained him deeply to leave her behind like this.

"Do whatever you have to do to come back to me."

"I'll try."

"Choose someplace with sunshine and adventure. Even if you don't come back I want you to live your life and love what you do with it." Narcissa pulled back and held her son at arm's length. "No regrets. And no worries."

"Yes, mother." Draco was determined not to show emotion, but the longer they dragged this out, the harder it was becoming for him to stay strong for her.

Narcissa smiled weakly, and reached behind her neck to unclasp a golden chain. She took it off and fixed it around Draco's neck. A golden pendant dangled from the chain. On it were carved runes that Draco recognized. His mother had worn this necklace every day of her life as far back as he could remember, and he had played with it when it was not tucked inside her robes.

After taking Ancient Runes at school he suspected those carved into the gold of her necklace to be Egyptian, but he had never considered them in any real depth.

"This will keep you safe." Narcissa whispered.

Draco nodded as she pulled back and tucked the pendant into his robes. At least now he had something of his mother's to carry around. Something to draw strength from.

"I love you, Draco."

"I love you, too." He said it so quietly he hoped she heard him, or could at least read the words on his lips.

Narcissa kissed his forehead and turned her son over to the Aurors waiting for him. She stood vigil at the staircase, watching until the door shut behind him and she was alone.

~S~

"Have you made a decision on where we are sending you?" Kingsley asked when they returned to the Ministry only minutes later.

Draco needed to sign official documents regarding his sentencing and that he agreed to abide by the terms of his exile. If he attempted to return before the year was up and was discovered he would be sentenced to Azkaban for one year, and his wand would be snapped.

Draco scribbled his initials on the parchment and threw the quill down. "Egypt." He answered as he got up from the chair. His mind had been reeling as he read over the terms of his exile. All he could think of was his mother's face as he had left. He tried to recall the feel of her arms around him as she strung the necklace about his neck. If he could not have his wand he was going to need something to occupy his time. Finally researching the runes on her pendant would keep him entertained for a little bit of time at least.

Kingsley felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Any particular reason why?"

"I don't have to explain that to you." Draco snapped. "You asked me where I want to go, I told you. My motives are irrelevant."

Kingsley stared at the young man on the other side of his desk. He stood with a quiet rustle of robes and turned to face away from the pureblood, hands clasped behind his back.

"I only ask, Mr. Malfoy, because if you are interested in a career as a Curse-breaker, Egypt is a wise decision." Kingsley turned. "If you wish to return in one year, having a career already established will work very much in your favor. The Ministry would sponsor you to pursue this and I will authorize to have your wand returned to you so that you may train. However, it would be limited in its scope. You would be able to cast spells necessary for curse-breaking and daily maintenance spells. Nothing more."

Draco gave the Minister a hard stare. He could tell Shacklebolt was genuine in his offer. But did Draco want to take it? _Did_ he want to come back? Yes. He couldn't leave his mother behind on her own. But if he chose to pursue this offer he knew there was going to be years of training and field work ahead of him. He would be authorized to return as a member of society in one year, but he may not actually be back on home soil to stay for a long time.

Draco closed his eyes to shut out everything else around him. He let his mind explore every other option. None guaranteed him even a fraction of what the Minister's could.

"All right," Draco breathed, opening his eyes. He met Shaklebolt's, feeling determination rise up in him. "I'll do it."

~S~

The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express puffed a great cloud of white into the air and the whistle shrilled loudly. Hermione and Ginny each hugged their significant other goodbye with the promise to see them again on Halloween. They climbed up into the carriage and were handed their trunks by Harry and Ron. Ron held onto Hermione's hand for an extra moment before finally letting go as the train began to move. She stood hanging partway out of the door, waving goodbye until the train turned and the platform was out of sight.

She and Ginny chose a compartment towards the back and stowed their trunks in the racks before settling onto the benches. Hermione placed Crookshanks's basket beside her and unstrapped it so he could get out and curl up in a more comfortable place. She thought about pulling out a book, but upon seeing the forlorn expression on her best friend's face as Ginny stared out the window, she reconsidered.

"You miss him already, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Yes and no." Ginny answered, her gaze still focused out the train window. "We got together, then he broke it off and we were apart for almost one year. Then we get together again." She turned now to face Hermione, "And it's only been a few months, you know?"

"Sort of. I mean, I understand the 'few months' part. That's as long as Ron and I have been together."

"Do you miss him?"

Hermione considered the question. Not really, not yet. They had only been a couple such a short amount of time. And she hadn't spent years pining away after Ron in the way Ginny had with Harry. There was more for Ginny to miss right now, having already been in a relationship previously. The most experience that Hermione had was the few brief snogs she had shared with Viktor Krum. Their relationship never went any further than that. She had danced with him at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and he had tried to drag her away into the rose bushes. But then chaos had erupted following Kingsley's message.

"We've been around each other more than we haven't. Right now, I'm enjoying the lack of Quidditch talk."

Ginny giggled. "So, I shouldn't start talking about the Harpies?"

"Not yet. Let me get acclimatized to the peace for a bit, first. Then you can ramble."

Ginny accepted this offer. "We need something to talk about, though."

"Not the boys, and not Quidditch. What are your plans for after Hogwarts?"

"I can't answer either of those questions. Seeing as it would violate your list of banned topics."

"Oh, all right." Hermione admonished. "Go ahead."

Ginny grinned broadly and leaned in as she began to spill her plans for next summer.

~S~

As the first few weeks passed, both girls began to realize that making time around Halloween to see Ron and Harry was not going to be a possibility. Ginny was far too busy with an overloaded schedule of work and Quidditch. Hermione was pressed for time to breathe between her own numerous classes and Prefect duties. Thankfully, the boys were understanding, since they were both tied up in Auror training until Christmas.

Kingsley was working the new recruits hard, wanting them field-ready as soon as possible. Even if what they could do was limited, they would still be able to shadow the more advanced Aurors until the trainees were ready to work on their own.

By the time the holidays arrived, Hermione was more than ready for a week at the Burrow, enjoying the company of her adopted family away from the too-cold castle. Ginny, who was used to frigid temperatures playing Quidditch, was looking forward to finally seeing Harry again. Hermione was anxious to spend time with Ron as well, but she didn't go charging into his arms upon arrival at King's Cross.

Ron appeared relieved as he watched his younger sister nearly knock his best friend to the platform in her excitement at seeing her raven-haired boyfriend. Hermione thought Ron looked faintly sick at the show of affection and enthusiasm. But she wrote it off as being witness to the emotions of his younger sister.

In fact, Ron was remembering all the public displays Lavender had been so apt to participate in. And he hoped Hermione never felt the need to. Holding her hand was one thing, but he was no longer so keen on public snogging.

"Good term so far?" Ron asked, taking Hermione's school bag.

"Yes, very good. How's training?"

Of course, she already knew from Ron's last letter just a few weeks ago. She hated mundane small-talk, but they needed some kind of distraction while Harry and Ginny finished greeting each other.

"Intense. Harry has already been promoted to a junior Auror, but he's still technically a trainee. Kingsley wants him qualified to take over training of the new recruits after the holidays. So, we won't be around much this week."

"Oh." Hermione spoke the one syllable with more disappointment than she felt. This was news. Ron had not mentioned any of this, but then again it could have been a very recent development. "So, I won't be seeing you?"

Ron slung a friendly arm around her shoulders as they started to walk out behind Harry and Ginny. "Of course you will. We'll be home all day on Christmas and New Year's."

"Just those two?" Hermione inquired, feeling less than hopeful.

"I know." Ron responded, hearing the tone in her voice." I was really looking forward to this week, too. I've missed you."

Hermione smiled at his words, feeling a light blush fill her cheeks. She reached her arm around his waist in an affectionate hug and laid her head on his shoulder as they exited King's Cross.

~S~

Hermione and Ginny didn't return to the Burrow until the Easter holiday, and they were able to spend much more time with their significant others. Auror training was going exceedingly well. Kingsley had put Harry in charge of the first group of recruits that had come in after the end of the war while the new Minister for Magic took over the training of the second group. It was a slightly larger assemblage and he split it between himself and another senior Auror.

Hermione was pleased that training was progressing so positively and listened to Ron for most of the week go on and on about the different spells they were learning and the next phase that they were due to start in a few weeks. There was not much opportunity for them to be alone, the Weasley house full to bursting for the holiday. Bill and Fleur (now eight months pregnant) were staying the last weekend. She couldn't travel as much now, being so close to her due date, and spent most of the three days that they were present sitting in the overstuffed armchair by the fireplace and eating chocolate out of a bowl perched on her protruding belly.

Hermione noticed that her airy attitude of self-entitlement had all but disappeared at the end of the war. She was more down-to-earth now and so much more approachable. It made Hermione smile to watch Bill dote on her as she asked for this, that, and everything that was food. Molly was more than pleased to offer up her pantry for her first grandchild and never once made a snarky comment about her daughter-in-law. Instead she offered all the advice and personal stories she had to share with the young woman.

It felt nice to be around such a large and loving family. But part of Hermione still felt utterly alone. Her own parents were gone and she was much too afraid still to bring them back. Wizarding England was not safe. At least not yet. And it wouldn't be for years. At least she hoped it would only be a few years before things felt secure once more. But she knew deep, deep down in her heart that she would never see her parents again. And they were better off far away where she knew they were safe. And alive.

Once the Easter holiday passed the rest of the school year finished in a blur of essays, studying, and her N.E.W.T.s. Ginny and Hermione both completed their final year with special recognition for top grades, beaming from the front of the Great Hall at Ron and Harry where they stood in the back. Both made the trip to the Scottish Highlands to watch their girlfriends graduate. Both never felt prouder.

Hermione immediately began work at the Ministry, having been offered a position in the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as a junior case manager. She started with minor Centaur land disputes, but in between she began to write proposals for changes to the laws governing house-elves to improve treatment.

She and Ron moved into a London flat together right before Christmas and they hosted Ginny, Harry, Arthur, Molly, and Neville and Luna for the holiday.

As the next two years passed life seemed to fall into place for the Golden Trio. Harry and Ginny got married just before she began her first season with the Holyhead Harpies. Ron was made a junior-level Auror and began his field work. Hermione was promoted to a mid-level case manager and moved to the Being Division.

With this advancement she was now able to work all her files independently without approval for most of the decision-making process. The Department head had complete faith in her to make the right choice. She could do her own research as well without having to submit it for correction before presentation. But her favorite aspect was the actual cases she worked.

They became increasingly difficult and time-sensitive. She still worked on Centaur land disputes when needed, having proved her capability of maintaining the necessary level of respect and working out the most beneficial deal for all parties involved. Her input was highly regarded and she was often sought after for her opinion and skill.

Her move to the Being Division was advantageous in another light as well. One that she considered even more important than the problematic cases she now handled. She could finally move forward with her work and years of research in house-elf rights. She had never let this passion die, considering it paramount. If she was going to do her part to change the Wizarding World for the better, the transformation had to start from the bottom.

She was in this position for a little over a year, visiting the Auror office as she did every afternoon to meet Ron before they went off to lunch together, when she noticed the previously unoccupied desk outside of the Department Head's office. No Auror wanted to sit there for precisely that reason. Ron hadn't mentioned any new trainees being brought in this week.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione wandered over having not yet caught site of her boyfriend, and examined the few belongings on the desk's surface. She just looked, didn't touch. There was a small stone pyramid with various runes carved into it. It looked a bit off-center, and upon closer inspection she saw that the pyramid was separated into three layers that appeared to spin on a central support. Interesting. There were other small models, a golden snitch, a broomstick – _Nimbus 2001 by the looks of it_ , Hermione thought, considering the coloring and what she knew from listening to Ron – and a framed photo of a very familiar looking woman with duel-colored hair (blonde and dark brown) sitting with a small platinum-haired boy as he played at the edge of a duck pond.

The little boy in the moving photograph turned toward whoever was taking the picture and smiled. Hermione gasped when she saw his eyes.

She knew those eyes.

Only two people she had met in her life had eyes that silver gray. And one of them was currently incarcerated in Azkaban prison for the rest of his life.

"Ready for lunch?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron's voice and clapped her hand over her heart. "Sweet Circe, Ron. Don't sneak up on someone like that."

"Sorry." Ron grinned at her.

Hermione nodded, accepting his apology. She nodded at the desk next to her. "Malfoy is back?"

"Yes, but not for long, thank Merlin. Only six months. Or so he says." Ron explained, his voice tight. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about their former fellow classmate. The boy who had tormented Hermione mercilessly for years.

They began to walk out toward the elevators. Hermione glanced back at Malfoy's desk. "You talked to him?"

"No, I overheard his conversation with Svenson, the Department Head. Apparently he's been put in the Auror office because there is nowhere else for him to be."

"What does he do?"

"He's a curse-breaker."

Hermione stepped into the elevator that had just arrived. "Shouldn't he be over at Gringotts then?"

"You would think. I have no clue why he's been put in with us. But I will say this. At least we can keep an eye him, you know? Make sure he doesn't try and get up to any old habits." Ron's voice took on a tone of suspicion. He spoke suggestively, in a way that managed not to say too much but also conveyed his point.

Hermione thought he sounded a bit prejudiced. She had always believed that Draco Malfoy never wanted to be a Death Eater (after that particular suspicion of Harry's was finally confirmed). The few times she saw him following the end of their Sixth-year, including his trial, he appeared hesitant and remorseful. As though he truly felt guilty over the things he had done (whatever they may have been).

"I wouldn't worry too much about it." Ron said, slipping an arm around her shoulders in the friendly hug that she had grown so accustomed to. "Like I said, he's not going to be hanging around long. He'll be returning to Egypt in six months and who knows how long he'll be gone."

"Yes, nothing to worry about." Hermione repeated to herself. She had barely heard a word of what her boyfriend had just said. Her mind was going back to the day of Draco's trial. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he walked out at the end. They were flat, hollow. As though he were devoid of life on the inside.

She could only wish that his life was better now. No one deserved to feel that empty and hopeless. Even if he had spent most of the time they had known each other calling her foul names and cursing her every breath, wishing it were her last. The war had sobered him, and she saw the evidence of that on his face.

Hermione turned to Ron and smiled as they stepped off the elevator. "I'm glad you're here to help me keep my grip."

Ron laughed jovially. "Of course. Who else is going to tell you to lighten up?"

Hermione frowned at the poke, but she leaned up and kissed his cheek in affection. Yes, everything was falling into place.

Now if it could stay that way, life would be perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Note: Thank you everyone for the response on the first chapter. I didn't know how it would be taken with the direction I went. I really didn't know how Draco would end up until I even started writing it. The whole Curse-Breaker concept was born months ago but as to how I was going to get him to Egypt in the beginning…that was up in the air until pen touched paper. Thank you again for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I am trying my hardest to respond to all reviews as they come in. If I missed you I apologize. It's not because I didn't think the review insignificant, I honestly just missed it.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2 – July 10, 2001

"I don't see the point." Draco muttered, setting his chin in his hand.

He looked up at his mother sitting across from him at the small table, pouring tea for them both. She had insisted on going out today to her favorite tea shop in Diagon Alley, dragging him along.

"The point, Draco, is to be out in public and to try to reintegrate ourselves into society." Narcissa handed him a cup of tea, holding the saucer delicately.

Draco picked his head up and accepted the hot beverage. He sipped it and looked around the small shop. They were seated off to the side of the establishment, but still in full view of the other patrons. Some met his gaze with narrowed eyes and then quickly looked away. Others closer to their table whispered behind their hands with flicked glances in his and his mother's direction.

But Narcissa ignored them. She regarded Draco with a long look, observing her son as he observed those around them. She set her tea cup down on its saucer and reached across the table for his hand. Draco turned to her, broken from whatever deep thoughts he had been engrossed in. She smiled at him, running her thumb over the back of his palm. In the three years he had been gone his skin had taken much sun in the Egyptian desert. Now his complexion was several shades darker than her own porcelain tone. His hair, however, had not darkened. Or, if it had, Draco had transfigured it back to its original platinum. His eyes, to her dismay, were still as flat and devoid of light as they had been since the Dark Mark had been burned into his left arm.

Narcissa had watched a part of her son, the part she treasured most, die that night. And despite her best efforts, she had not been able to bring it back.

"What do you care what they think?" Draco asked, watching his mother stroke his hand.

"I don't. But neither am I going to remain shut away in my own house like I am ashamed or frightened. We did what we had to, Draco. And I have no regrets." She watched the pained expression that crossed her son's face as he pulled his hand away and pushed his tea cup to the side. "I wish you wouldn't either."

"I didn't say that I did." Draco met his mother's dark eyes across the table. "I just don't like remembering that part of my life."

"Because you regret part of it." Narcissa stated, not giving him any room to argue.

"I was weak."

"You were not." Narcissa reached for his hand again, but Draco pulled it further away.

"I was. I was a weak, despicable little shit."

"Language, please, Draco." Narcissa chided softly.

Draco gave her an annoyed look. He rolled his eyes and let out a breath. "Sorry. My return has been less than welcoming. I have to sit among the Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I'm told, because there was nowhere else to place me right now. I know it's the Ministry's way of keeping an eye on me. And what's worse I'm sitting next to that blood traitor Weasley."

Draco paused taking stock of what he had just said. He had let his old mindset slip back in for a moment in his frustration. He didn't believe in those things anymore (blood traitors and mudbloods). He was so infuriated over what the Ministry was so obviously trying to do to him that his mind wandered down a long-forgotten path. Something he had been trying so hard to forget over the last three years. He didn't want to be _that_ person anymore. Throughout his time in Egypt he had retrained his brain to see the world differently.

The experience of it all, having to essentially live as muggle since he had limited use of his wand in that first year, had been very humbling. He learned to appreciate the small things people did for him, (prepare a meal or bring him water). And he learned not to take those same people around him for granted. His sponsor, Jenkins, had trained him well, and trained him hard. There had been times when the older curse-breaker intentionally let him touch cursed objects if Draco just reached without thinking. Jenkins knew what was safe and what was not. And those times had taught him a tough lesson. Every now and again he could still feel tingles go up his right arm.

"You are not back for long, though." Narcissa tried to smile, but knowing she had her son with her only for a limited time made her heart ache fiercely.

He had already been gone three years, coming back for his probationary hearings after the first year and again six months later. Narcissa had not seen Draco either time. She received lengthy letters once or twice a month, but it was not the same as being able to lay eyes on him or hold him in her arms. She only had him for a few months and then he would be returning to Egypt once more for two years. As her son had explained, three new tombs had been discovered just before he left and he, along with a full team of curse-breakers, would be returning to Egypt for twenty-four months to excavate and catalogue artifacts and treasure for Gringotts.

"No." Draco leaned forward and rubbed both hands over his face. He was exhausted. He had spent the last two weeks working well past the end of his shift, writing reports and detailed accounts of the items that had been brought back on this last trip. He had to list each piece of treasure individually, describe and sketch it, and then list, in order, the spells he had used on the object (if any had been needed to remove any curses). "No, I'm not. And I am torn between wanting to leave again and not wanting to go at all."

"But you've already achieved so much, Draco."

Draco snorted. He was twenty-one years old. He had achieved nothing. Draco pulled his now cold cup of tea back in front of him and waved his wand over it to heat it back up. Steam began to curl from the surface after a moment and he stashed his wand in his pocket once more. He picked up the cup to sip and heard the bell over the door tinkle merrily. He didn't know why he looked up, but he did.

 _Well, speak of the devil_ , Draco thought as he watched a very familiar head of ginger hair walk in. It was followed by an even more familiar head of bushy, brown curls. Weasley held the door, just barely, for his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, as she walked in behind him. He looked annoyed, and she looked upset. Another row, perhaps?

He had heard the two go at it with each other inside Potter's office just last week. Draco hadn't heard every word, but the raised voices inside were a clear indication of what was happening on the other side of the door.

They took a seat and were approached by a waitress. A few minutes later a tea pot and two cups, along with a plate of biscuits appeared on the table. Draco was surprised they had chosen a table so close. Neither had looked up, or around, when they walked in. The Slytherin in him wanted to use this to his advantage and eavesdrop.

But should he really exploit it? Draco needn't have worried because Weasley began to raise his voice in a hiss, frustration clearly behind it.

"I thought we were done talking about this, 'Mione. I told you I can't go."

"No, you said you weren't _sure_ if you could go."

"Well, now I'm saying I can't."

Hermione fidgeted with her still empty tea cup. "Any particular reason why?" Her voice dropped a little and Draco had to strain a bit to hear it.

Weasley slurped a sip of tea. "I promised Harry I would be Keeper that weekend. We're playing against the Hit Wizards."

"Oh, I see." Hermione stated in a knowing tone.

"It wouldn't just be you, 'Mione. My parents will be there, too."

"It's their thirty-third anniversary, Ron. I certainly hope they'll be there." Hermione let out a breath through her nose. "We haven't spent a lot of time together recently. Just because we would be at you parent's house doesn't mean we would be spending the whole day with them. They have other friends that will be attending the party. I'm sure they'll want to catch up with them, too." Almost an entire minute of silence passed by before she added. " _I_ promised I would be there."

"But _I_ didn't. And Mum knows that Harry and I both have the game that day. I told her when she asked me if I was free."

"So Quidditch is more important than spending time with me? Or your family?"

Draco felt both of his eyebrows shoot up. Not just because of what Granger said, but the way she said it. Her voice was full disappointment. He could tell this wasn't the first time this had happened, but the hurt was still there in her voice.

He jumped slightly in the next moment when Weasley smacked his hand down on the table. "You're really going to start nagging me about this again?" Ron accused. "Well, I'm not doing this here. I'll see you at home, Hermione."

Draco heard the sound of a chair pushing back and the sound of a napkin being thrown on the table. He sipped his tea and glanced sideways in time to watch the ginger exit out onto the street. Hermione was looking around the small shop to see who had heard and her eyes caught his. They widened in shock as a blush painted her cheeks. There was no mistaking the look of pain and sadness on her face. She got up from the table and paid for the barely consumed tea and untouched biscuits at the counter before quickly exiting the shop.

"Curiosity satisfied?" Narcissa asked.

Draco had forgotten his mother was there and started a little at her voice. "Um…yes. I suppose."

Narcissa offered him a knowing look and reached across the table with the teapot to refill his cup. "You know you shouldn't eavesdrop, but even I could hear them."

"Weasley is tactless. He likes to make a show of himself. All those years living in Potter's shadow I expect." Draco muttered, mostly to himself. He held his cup with both hands and sipped quietly. "Don't even get me started on how he acts at the Ministry."

"I can imagine, dear, I'm sure."

"It's embarrassing to watch. I almost feel bad for him."

"You don't need to get involved in the mistakes of others."

"I've already made plenty of my own." Draco uttered darkly.

"That is not what I meant, Draco, and you know it."

Draco snorted quietly and finished his tea. He shook his head when his mother offered the pot again, but took one of the small cucumber sandwiches she had ordered and nibbled a corner.

"Are you going to be staying in Wiltshire for the entire length of your time in England."

"For now, yes. I don't know what's going to happen when I come back in two years."

"I would love for you to stay with me, Draco. But I understand if you need your own space."

He looked up at his mother, already feeling the guilt pile on. He did want his own space. Just so he didn't have to continue to walk the halls of his childhood home and remember those years. But he didn't want his mother to be alone, either.

"Do not feel bad about leaving me on my own, Draco. I am far from it." Narcissa smiled encouragingly at her son, knowing what he was thinking as the wince crossed his young features. "I have the elves, and many of our family friends still come by often."

Draco felt a little bit better. But he knew how fragile his mother could become if left on her own too long. His father was no longer part of the picture of her life. Which was some small relief. Although Draco doubted her when she said she did not miss him. Her true feelings were etched across her face every time the words came out of her mouth. Lucius Malfoy was her husband, and despite being a despicable human being, in Draco's eyes, he was still her husband and she loved him. And very clearly longed for his presence.

But she would not have it.

At least not at length.

After her year of house arrest was over, Narcissa began to visit her husband in Azkaban. But she could only bear to see him for very short periods of time, and once every three or four months. Just being close to that wretched place made her feel weak. Even though Dementors no longer patrolled its dank interior, that did not erase the feeling of absolute despair that still hung in the air whenever one frequented the horrible place.

"You need to focus on you, Draco." Narcissa said. "And I mean that in the sense that I want you to be the best that you can be. You have nothing to prove to anyone else. Including me. I am already proud of you for what you have done, and everything that you will do. Stop being so hard on yourself and just live your life."

Draco sighed, setting his head in his hand again. He wished it were that easy.

~S~

Come Monday morning Draco found himself once more ensconced in his cubicle in the Auror office, eyeballs deep in reports. He still had a month's worth of journal entries, his own personal recordings, to go through to sort out all of the information he needed. Since he had left three years ago he began detailing his day-to-day life just to give his mind something to do so he wouldn't go insane. The habit stuck with him all through his training

He wrote everyday what he learned, saw, and any other thoughts that popped into his head. It also made correspondence with his mother more entertaining. Well, more entertaining for her at least. It was fortunate that he kept such a detailed account of all the items he worked with and removed curses from before they were packaged for transport back to London. His reports were among the best of all the curse-breakers, and Jenkins never found issues with his work. Accept to point out now and again a way he could have handled an object differently if Draco had experienced particular trouble with it.

And Draco accepted this constructive criticism. It was how he learned.

It was around midday when he received a memo from Jenkins asking for Draco to meet him in the large conference room that the Department of Magical Enforcement held all of its meetings in. Draco was confused after reading the little note that landed lightly on his desk, because Jenkins had never called him into the conference room before to go over a report. He typically requested that Draco Floo over to Gringotts to his office so they could speak.

He finished his current thought in the report he was wrapping up on a set of cursed jewelry they had recovered in the last tomb that had been excavated just six months ago, then locked the work in his desk and walked down the hall to the conference room. Jenkins was waiting, sitting comfortably in one of the eighteen chairs around the long, mahogany table. He was turning side to side, rotating in the seat as he looked around.

Jenkins was laid back like this, and with a very dry sense of humor that Draco learned to appreciate early on in his training. But just because his sponsor had come off as easy going, didn't mean that he took his job lightly. He was rough in his lessons, abruptly honest, and never hesitated to point out mistakes. All of this Draco was incredibly thankful for, seeing as almost all of the mistakes he had made in the beginning could have gotten him killed.

Draco respected his sponsor and treated him like he was supposed to treat his superior. But superior only in the work place. And Jenkins made that very clear from day one. He promised not to treat Draco like a criminal if Draco promised to respect him at work, and do as he was told without question. It was an easy enough request. And Jenkins never treated Draco like was he anything less than an equal. It was refreshing.

Casting eyes on the man now, Draco saw that laid back nature coming out. Jenkins spun in the chair, taking in the large room, eyes wide.

"Have you never been in here before?" Draco asked without knocking on the door.

"Not since it was remodeled." Jenkins answered, stopping just as he came around to face Draco again. He gestured to the chair next to him, and Draco walked in and sat down. "You look confused." The older wizard laughed genially.

Draco tried to feel as lighthearted as the man before him, but all he could manage was a small smirk that he was afraid came out more like a grimace. He looked the wizard over as he sat. Years in the desert had standardized Jenkins's wardrobe to include mostly light colors. White, tans, and the like. Today the Head curse-breaker had chosen light brown trousers and a white button-down that he tucked in, paired with his ministry robes and a sage green necktie.

Draco was wearing his customary black. Pants, button-down, waistcoat, and tie. The only break from the monochromatic scheme was the nearly invisible pattern on the necktie. Serpentine lines that could only be seen in the right light. When he first arrived in Egypt he had transfigured his clothes into lighter options. Upon arriving back in England a few weeks ago he switched right back to his favorite black. It was familiar and comforting. And he looked damn good in it.

"I'm a little confused." Draco glanced at the table. There were no files or parchment. He wasn't called in here to discuss reports.

"As you know we will be returning to Egypt in about four or five months. Timeline depending. While I will be supervising overall, I want you to be the lead for the excavation team."

Draco blinked. _Lead for the excavation team? First one in, responsible for three or four Curse-breakers behind him, and primary spell-caster?_ Draco blinked again.

"Me?" He finally asked, not sure he had heard correctly. (He had, he just didn't believe it).

"You." Jenkins confirmed, gesturing to the blonde.

Draco let his posture relax infinitesimally. He could do so now that he knew he wasn't here to receive discipline of some kind. He looked around for a minute before his eyes came back to rest on his sponsor. "Why?"

"Because I believe you are capable. Your reporting is flawless, and you learned exceptionally quickly. Despite your past," Jenkins grimaced slightly, clearly uncomfortable bringing it up. Draco knew it was because Jenkins was aware of how touchy the subject was for him. He respected the older man that much more for it. "The other curse-breakers are inclined to follow you because of your confidence and skill." Jenkins continued, "And I don't anticipate any issues. They would go to you first, and me second. _You_ would report directly to me."

Draco let out a quiet breath. Jenkins watched the young man as his eyes fell to his lap. He could practically hear the gears turning. William Jenkins had three children of his own, one that was Draco's age and two that were currently in their third and fifth years at Hogwarts. He knew the look on the Slytherin's face well.

"You doubt your own ability." He said. It was not a question

"I don't think I should be given this responsibility."

"That right there," Jenkins smiled, "is exactly why I want you to do it. Because you _are_ able, and I have every faith that you can handle it."

Draco sighed out loud this time. "Can I think about it?" He asked, meeting Jenkins's eyes.

"Take your time. But I do need a decision in the next month so I can file all of the proper paperwork. And you will need time yourself to processes for the tombs."

Draco felt an eyebrow quirk involuntarily. Seeing this, Jenkins smirked. "How you plan to excavate and all that nonsense." He elaborated.

Draco nodded, understanding and began to stand. "I'll let you know."

Jenkins stood as well. "You've earned this, Draco. You've worked impressively hard the last three years. I don't think I've ever trained a curse-breaker that caught on or showed so much promise as you."

Draco was flabbergasted. He blinked again, and before he could stop himself, he reached forward. "Thank you."

Jenkins took his hand and shook it once. "You're good at what you do, Draco. And I trust you. I've learned that."

Draco nodded again, speechless. After the last few weeks of sitting among the Aurors and receiving nothing but dirty looks, it felt…strange…but revitalizing at the same time to be told that someone trusted him.

"I won't make this official until one month before we are set out to leave. So you can work at your pace for now. If you accept." Jenkins tossed in the last line, just in case, but he already knew Draco was going to say yes. The kid just needed to get over the shock first of being told that he was considered responsible and capable. Two things he obviously did not hear enough of after coming of age.

They walked out together, and Jenkins made a left toward the elevator bank, and Draco a right back into the main Auror office. He walked around the back of the cubicles to avoid the stares he knew would follow going through the center of the space. In doing so, however, he came upon Weasley and Granger hissing quietly inside the ginger's cubicle.

Both were facing away from him, and no doubt would have seen Draco had he come around the other way. He slipped quietly into his seat, no one the wiser to his presence and proximity. He couldn't make out the entire conversation as he busied himself with taking his reports back out to finish them. Granger was whispering quickly and Weasley grumbling, barely audible. His tone changed to that of annoyance and Draco heard him get up from his chair and storm off. He chanced a glance over his shoulder.

Granger was watching her boyfriend walk away. She slumped down into the chair, burying her face in her hands. She shook her head, curls swinging. They seemed a bit more tame today than they had over the weekend. Hermione dropped her hands and Draco watched a look of sadness mixed with confusion and a little frustration cross her face in that moment. She was completely unguarded, and he almost felt bad for intruding on her privacy. Almost.

He turned back to his work, hearing Granger get up from the chair a moment later. Draco shook his head as he scratched out some notes and began to make corrections.

"Morning, Draco."

The quill in his hand stilled and his eyes widened momentarily. He turned, adopting a neutral expression on his face. "Granger." He stated as he faced her. She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she stood in front of his cubicle, eyes darting here and there, but not looking at him. "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually…" She began, but stopped, turning over her shoulder to look at Weasley's desk behind her.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?" He asked, not trying to hide the snark.

Hermione faced him, daggers in her eyes. But they softened a moment later and she shook her head. "No. Um. Never mind." She took off, heels clicking quietly on the floor as she retreated.

Draco turned back to his desk, thinking. Maybe ( _maybe_ ) he could have dialed down the snark a little. There really had been no reason for it. But old habits do die hard. His mind wandered as he worked. Jenkins was giving him a real opportunity. Part of him truly believed he was not ready for this. But the other, less self-loathing, part of him wanted to prove his sponsor right. This was a chance for him to show not just Jenkins and the other curse-breakers, but the Ministry, that the Draco Malfoy they had sent away three years ago was not the same lost boy that stood in that cold forsaken courtroom.

He had grown stronger emotionally. He pushed down his sadness and loneliness until nothing showed. Draco knew it made him come off as cold and hard. But that was better than scared. Which is exactly how he felt upon his return to England. Now he would be going away for another two years. Here was his chance to truly discover who he was inside, not only as a wizard, but as a Malfoy. Which parts of himself he could leave behind and which parts he could bolster.

Draco worked straight through his lunch that day, nibbling on the sandwich he had packed for himself as he finished the last of his reports for the day. Just as five o'clock rolled around he was putting the last touches on an initial draft for the excavation process and spell procedures for the tombs he would be overseeing. Draco signed his initials at the bottom of his acceptance and sent the document off to Jenkins's office at Gringotts.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

First of, my most profound apologies for disappearing off the face of the earth. There has been simply too much going on in the last few months for me to dedicate my heart, mind, and soul to fanfiction. That being said, those particular personal hurdles have been jumped and I am feeling more the thing lately. I am astounded that readers are still hanging in there. THANK YOU _**SO**_ MUCH for your patience and continued support. Honestly, it if wasn't there I don't think I would have considered coming back to update on a (semi) regular basis. I would have just written here or there and updated in bulk once a story was finished. But with all the crap that happened and the heartbreak that I am still going through I know I can turn back to this to get me through, and that all of you lovely readers are out there waiting.

Well, the wait is over! Thank you all again so, so much! See you on the other side.

\- Redd

Note: In case this chapter gets confusing as far as timeline goes. Two years passed between Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Another three years has passed between Chapter 2 and Chapter 3, give or take a few months. So five years total has gone by since the beginning of Chapter 1. I am deliberately moving this fast. But as of this chapter I have fast forwarded as far as I need to for the main plot. Please feel free to ask any questions if there is still confusion. ENJOY!

* * *

Chapter 3 – July 23, 2003

Draco Malfoy stared down at the morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands, not surprised one bit by the headline. He was sitting comfortably under one of the canvas tents, his tea and small breakfast of flatbread and fruit forgotten in front of him. He pulled down the brim of his favorite tan hat to shield his eyes and set his booted feet up on the wooden table, relaxing back even more into his chair. Despite that he was in the shade of the tent, he could still feel the heat of the Egyptian sun beating down. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but having grown up in England he wasn't used to such consistent dry heat. And probably never would be.

Draco smirked to himself as he read through the main article accompanying the headline. After five years, and a whirlwind romance, war heroes Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley finally called it quits. But not for any mutually agreed upon reason. No. With only weeks to go before the couple tied the knot (worst mistake either one could make in Draco's opinion) Hermione caught Weasley in bed with his former Hogwarts "sweetheart", as Lavender Brown was calling herself in the article.

Draco sniggered and flipped the page. It seemed Hermione had proceeded to leave the two in peace, exiting the flat she shared with her, now ex, fiancé in tears. Ron Weasley made the mistake of chasing after her out into public, Lavender on his heels. And, of course, there just happened to be reporters (with cameras) lurking around. (No coincidence, Draco was sure). Pictures had been captured of the ensuing argument, mostly of Granger prodding her finger into Weasley's bare chest. (He was presumably naked underneath the sheet wrapped around his waist). Lavender Brown stood off to the side wearing only a short negligee that matched her horrible name.

Of course, Draco would have to believe the _Prophet's_ description as all the photos were in black and white. Unfortunately, none of those printed actually showed Lavender. Just Weasley and Granger and her livid expression, along with her ridiculously wild hair.

This had occurred only days ago (July 20 according to the publication). Draco received the paper along with a letter from his mother just this morning. She had sent him the _Prophet_ , not for the headline, but for the small piece tucked away in the back of the periodical about developments at Azkaban Prison. His mother had read the article, noticing that her husband was among those inmates listed as being moved to St. Mungo's in the last month. Her letter was a long diatribe on how could she have _not_ been contacted concerning her own husband? Especially if he was ailing, (which he was).

Lucius Malfoy had fallen ill (not for the first time) with a severe head cold and was experiencing difficulty breathing. He had been moved to St. Mungo's two weeks ago without a word to his wife. In her letter, Draco's mother went on to say that she had been visiting Lucius every other day, but he was not making a lot of progress. The Potioneers were attempting to develop a stronger Pepper-up potion right now to counter his father's cold and hopefully clear his lungs.

Draco set the paper down and pulled his now cold tea and plate of food toward himself. He warmed the tea first and then started to make his usual breakfast of fig spread with dates and nuts on the flatbread, rolling it up. Draco walked out from under the tent, taking big bites of his "sandwich" and sipping his tea. He glanced around at the small circle of tents, ready to rouse the other curse-breakers if they didn't show their arses in the next five minutes.

They were on a deadline and had to have the last tomb cleared out by day's end today. Jenkins was returning from London tomorrow morning via portkey to begin overseeing the transportation of all treasure and artifacts. He had left about a month ago to tend to his wife, who was expecting their fourth child. When he had gone home on a short vacation almost one year ago he had not been expecting to receive an owl eight weeks later with news that the family would be growing.

Jenkins handled the shock admiringly well for someone who had not been expecting such news, Draco thought, remembering the day. The first thing out of the Head curse-breaker's mouth as he read the letter was, "Well, shite, this is going to slow things down." Draco had chuckled and clapped his superior on the shoulder and told him he could manage for any time that Jenkins needed to take off to go home. Which turned out to be every month for a few days. His most recent trip was the longest he had been away yet, and only because his wife was weeks away from her due date, and he wanted to be there.

Draco could not blame the man, and confidently took up Jenkins's role, while also still filling his own. The last few weeks had been a challenge, between handling the duties of a head curse-breaker and his own responsibilities as team leader. The biggest issue was the paperwork. There was so much more of it that Jenkins handled. And Draco was determined to do the work himself. Call it pride, call it OCD to make sure it was done properly. But what it came down to was proving both to Jenkins, and to himself, that he was capable of the job. Not that he wanted it (again, the paperwork), but he wanted Jenkins to know that he could step in at any time should it be needed.

Draco popped the last bite of his breakfast into his mouth and sipped the last drop of his tea before setting the cup back on the table for later. Just as he turned back to the tents he noticed that Porter, Keyes, Blackwell, Maybell, and Lucas had all clambered from their tents, dressed and ready to go.

"Good, that saves me the trouble, then." He teased his team good naturedly. Draco flicked his wand at the table behind him, and plates of breakfast food appeared along with two pots of fresh tea and clean cups. "I'm going to do a final check for curses and make sure the passages are still clear from last night then we'll get started. Sound good?" He asked as the five men all walked into the large meeting tent and settled at the table to eat. He got a collective grumble, which was all he cared about (at least they heard him and acknowledged him, even if he didn't get a direct reply).

The day went smoothly from breakfast until almost dusk. Draco and his five teammates cleared out all of treasure and removed simple curses that could be done in minutes. Any treasure or artifacts that would take hours they handled with dragon hide gloves and wrapped in layers of canvas, which was then packaged in sealed, magical crates. They only happened upon a dozen items or so of this nature. But there had been one tomb, the second one, that had been full of nothing but cursed objects. That tomb had taken three months to clear out because of how slowly and carefully they needed to work.

At dusk, Draco called for his team members to clear the tomb because he was going to reseal it. Keyes was the last one out, and was dragging his feet as he always did. Draco went up to the mouth of the tomb and called for him again, but got no answer. Then the walls around him began to shake. Draco knew an earthquake when he felt one, and this was not an earthquake. Even a minor one that they sometimes experienced with the shifting sands and rock out here. No, this was a curse. And one they had missed.

"Keyes!" Draco yelled into the passageway. This time he heard a faint cry back and went charging in, wand up and lit.

Keyes was in the second to last chamber. He appeared to have tripped over a loose stone in the floor and his foot was caught. Just behind him, Draco saw the decorative vase that had been attached to the wall. Thick, black smoke was pouring out from the crack in the stone behind it. Keyes must have reached out and grabbed it as he fell, yanking the object far enough to allow the curse behind it out. There must be another chamber behind the wall.

But they would never get the chance to see it.

"What happened?" Draco crouched down to start freeing the man's foot, wiggling it back and forth.

"I heard you call as I was doing a final sweep." Keyes explained, groping for his wand in the light Draco's provided. "I turned to go and something pushed me from behind."

Draco looked up. The smoke was only a few feet from them. Thin tendrils began to reach out, creeping toward Keyes as though to wrap around his leg.

"Shite, come on." Draco swore and twisted the man's foot to the left. It slipped out a little, but the toe of his boot was caught. "Can you take it off?"

Keyes finally found his wand and grabbed it, pointing it at the laces on his boot. They unwound and he managed to pull his foot from the shoe just as the tendrils of smoke reached it and crept inside. The boot withered and fell to dust in front of them.

" _Shite_." Draco cursed again. He looped one of Keyes's arms over his shoulder and helped the man limp out as fast as they could go. He held his wand between his teeth as they moved back up the passage together like two men in a three-legged race. He could see the steps leading up into the desert a few meters in front of them.

Cold air pressed at his back and Draco swore he felt something like a caress on the back of his neck. Ice rain trough his veins, slowing him even further. _Almost there, come on!_ He shouted at himself. They reached the steps and Draco pushed Keyes in front of him. Porter and Blackwell were there waiting and pulled the injured man out first. Draco jumped up the last few steps and turned, casting a shield charm at the entrance, and then made a sharp slash across the doorway, sealing the tomb permanently. Rocks tumbled into place filling the open space just as a wall of black came rushing up the stairs. Only a few wisps escaped as the last rock rolled into place, and were carried away on a desert breeze.

Draco fell back against the sand, letting his wand roll from his hand. It took him a moment to realize that he was being dragged to his feet and stuffed into a chair. Someone handed him a canteen, and then it was taken away, and a glass tumbler was pressed into his palm.

"I can't believe you did that." Maybell's voice stated.

Draco tossed back the firewhiskey in a single gulp, not even wincing from the burn as the alcohol slipped down his throat. But within moments he could feel his nerves calming and the adrenaline wearing off. He looked up to see Keyes with his right leg stretched out on the bench of the table. Porter was waving his wand in small circles over the man's ankle. The swelling went down immediately, and the pained expression on Keyes's face dissolved into one of relief.

"Are you ok?" Draco asked.

Keyes nodded. "I'm all right. You?"

Draco nodded, but didn't respond.

"That was bloody brave of you." Keyes piped up as he swung his fixed ankle down and stood, putting weight on it.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, glancing up at the man from the little mound of sand he had been staring at.

"I mean, I didn't think you'd try and get me out."

Draco stood and brushed his pants off. "We're a team, Keyes. I'm responsible for all of you. And that's something I've never taken lightly." Draco glanced around at all five men as he said this. "I feel responsible every day for everyone's safety, and I hope this proves just how serious I am about maintaining this team. We've all worked well together in the last two years. I would want to work with all of you again."

"Bloody right." Porter added, and walked over to clap Draco on the shoulder. "What a thing to happen, though, on our last night."

"Had to happen sometime." Blackwell muttered, a smirk on his face. He had been saying every day for the past few months that they were overdue for another big curse trying to kill them all.

"Well, it's over now. Let's get the rest of the items catalogued for transport in the morning, and then call it an early night." Draco announced. His five teammates nodded and began chattering as they walked out of the tent.

Draco stayed behind watching them. He had felt the shift between himself and his team after the short speech he made. He could feel a new level of respect from them. But for some reason it made him uneasy. They laughed easily with each other as they moved artifacts and treasure from the hammocks they used to remove items from the tombs into crates filled with straw. Each crate was sealed with a magical lock and stamped. They were then stacked and left for the morning.

After the last crate was packed, Keyes retrieved the bottle of firewhiskey from the tent and six glasses. Maybell started a fire with a prod of his wand into the pit they used. Flames leapt up, lighting the darkness that had fallen around the camp. Draco took a seat between Porter and Keyes and accepted the glass he was handed.

"To a successful two years." Porter offered, raising his glass, "and to hoping those goblins wait a good long time before sending us back out here."

Draco raised his glass but didn't join in the cheer. He sipped his firewhiskey as he stared into the flames. Another two years gone. He was ready to return home. And hopefully for a long time. He had already put in five years in the field, and managed his own team. He was ready to stop the adventures for now and take some time for himself. He was young and in good shape, with plenty of energy. But his mind was fatigued beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. He needed to slow down for a while. Do something boring and monotonous for a few years while he took the time to truly reintegrate himself into wizarding society in London.

Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for.

~S~

"What do you mean _my_ office?" Draco asked incredulously from where he stood in the doorway to the Head curse-breaker's office.

"I mean this will be yours in two months." Jenkins clarified looking wistfully around the space. "Well…you'll be the Head Curse-breaker. But the goblins still don't want you anywhere near Gringotts." He looked apologetic.

Draco shrugged that off. That was a trivial detail. Actually, it was ideal that way. What he couldn't wrap his head around was the fact that Jenkins was leaving. And they had just gotten back from Egypt last week. More so, he wanted _Draco_ to take over as Head curse-breaker.

Draco crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. "How do the others feel about this?"

"Surprisingly, they are all for it. Supporting you, I mean. Not me leaving."

"Surprisingly?" Draco asked, quirking one eyebrow.

"They are all behind you. I expected maybe one or two hesitancies. But no. Blackwell, Maybell, Porter, Keyes, and Lucas are all behind you. Johnson and Wentworth, too. But you don't have to worry about them too much. They work more so with the goblins than you will. Your main responsibilities will be the other five curse-breakers, overseeing the collections…."

"Wait," Draco held up a hand, hoping he didn't sound rude. "They're all supporting me?"

Jenkins smiled. "Yes. Keyes told me what happened and I read your report. What you did in that tomb, saving his life, earned not only his respect but the respect of your whole team. Granted, I believe you already had it at that point, but after last week you sealed it. They trust you, they believe in you, Draco. And they will support you as the new Head curse-breaker. And none of them want the position anyway." He chuckled at little as he finished. "Too much paperwork."

"Why are you leaving?"

"Well, several reasons." Jenkins, who had been leaning back in his chair sat up setting his folded hands on the desk. "I've been in this position for almost seven years now. I was in your position for another five before that. I'm not getting any younger. And with an ever-growing family it has become more and more difficult for me to be away for years at a time."

"What are you going to do?"

"I took a position in the Department of Magical Transportation. Simple, easy forty-hour weeks. I'll be able to be home every night to help Madelaine with the children. It's been a very long time since I've been able to spend good quality time with my family."

Draco felt both his eyebrows raise this time. He hadn't been expecting some of that answer. Of course, he'd known how long Jenkins had been a curse-breaker. He just never considered the amount of time the man had dedicated to the job, and that it had taken him away from his family for so long. More power to him for recognizing that now was the time to change so he didn't lose what he had at home.

"So, what do you say? Will you take the job?"

Draco walked into the office, looking around as he approached the chair in front of Jenkins's desk. He picked up odd trinkets here and there, and even eyed the moving photographs of the man's family on the shelf behind him. With an exhale, Draco sat in the chair. He had just turned twenty-three last week (not that he celebrated beyond letting his mother take him out for dinner). He was already the youngest curse-breaker in the group.

"You really think I can handle this?" Draco asked, staring his mentor, sponsor, boss…friend...in the eye.

"Yes, I do. You doubted yourself when I made you the team leader for this last trip to Egypt. I'm not saying don't doubt yourself, it's good sometimes to be nervous. It makes you more self-aware, and less likely to be cocky."

Draco huffed and cracked a small smile. "True."

"I don't believe you are going to have a problem with that, Draco. You are a very intelligent young man. You know better than to be arrogant here."

Draco knew by "here" Jenkins meant the Ministry as a whole.

"Try. That's all I can ask." Jenkins smiled encouragingly.

"I can do that." Draco nodded.

"Good, then its settled."

Draco huffed again. Blunt and to the point. That's what he liked most about Jenkins. And what he would miss the most as well.

~S~ (October 2003)

"What are you saying, Harry, kick her out?"

"No. Just that she needs to get back on her feet. It's been almost three months. And she didn't have to let Ron have the flat."

"Harry, there was no way she was going to stay there. Not after what happened."

Harry sighed heavily, the sound of someone who had done everything he could think of and still it wasn't enough.

"I'm worried about her, Gin."

"I know, I am, too."

The sound of a crying baby finally forced Hermione to crack one eye open. She had been lying awake for the past several minutes listening to her two best friends in the world discussing _her_ on the other side of the bedroom door. Hermione rolled over and sat up running her fingers through her crazy curls, gathering them into a bun. She grabbed the hair tie on her nightstand and wrapped it around her mane twice to hold everything in place.

She got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She couldn't hear Harry or Ginny, and assumed they must have gone off to answer James's cries. Just a few weeks old, he was their whole world. A delightful little raven-haired boy with Ginny's bright brown eyes and the infectious personalities of both his parents. And by delightful, Hermione meant any other time than when he was spitting up, puking, sneezing, peeing, or expelling any other gooey or semi-solid matter. Which was all the time. Other than that, he was the most wonderful baby she had ever met.

She dressed methodically, not bothering to check if her clothes matched. It was Saturday. Or was it Sunday? She didn't know. She didn't care. She had been living on auto pilot ever since her break up with Ron. Months of planning for what should have been a beautiful ceremony were thrown away. She had had to cancel the venue for both the ceremony and the reception, the caterer, all the flower arrangements…the list went on. She hadn't wanted a huge ceremony, and it wouldn't have been. But Molly had insisted on making the day as memorable as they could, and much of what had been planned had been at her suggestion.

Of course, when the split happened, she helped Hermione get everything organized and to get back every last galleon that she could. Whatever was left that had to be paid because of such a late cancellation, Ron had to pay. And he didn't let Hermione hear the end of it. Still didn't. But it wasn't like he was going to miss a lot of it. Aurors were well compensated due to the dangerous nature of their occupation.

Hermione opened her door slowly and glanced down the hallway. Harry stood in the door to James's nursery, his back to her. She could just make out Ginny over his shoulder, standing over the crib. Hermione crept from her room as quietly as possible, but barely made it to the stairs before Harry turned around.

"Morning." He greeted her with a small smile.

"Morning. Um, did the _Daily Prophet_ arrive yet?"

"Of course. It's on the table downstairs. What's up? Expecting breaking news?" Harry teased. Ginny appeared next to him, James in her arms.

"No, just wanted to look at flats for rent."

Ginny's face fell slightly. "You heard us?"

Hermione nodded.

"Oh, 'Mione. You don't have to leave." Ginny walked over to her friend and wrapped one arm around her in a hung. James cooed in her other arm and smiled up at them both with a happy gurgle.

"I know, but Harry is right. It's been three months. It's time to get back on my feet. The longer I mope the more satisfaction I give him."

Ginny knew the "him" to be her stupid git of a brother. Her and Harry's house in Godric's Hollow had been the first place Hermione came to after the break up. She turned up on their front step with tears rolling down her cheeks and a bare left hand. Ginny, a little less than two months from her due date at the time, and almost as big as the house itself, pulled her best friend inside and let her cry on her shoulder for what felt like the entire night.

Hermione hadn't gone to work for three days after. But she pulled herself together and walked back into the Ministry ready to perform at 110%. But that was where the effort ended. As soon as she returned to Godric's Hollow at the end of the day, she crashed. Eventually she stopped crying herself to sleep every night and her appetite returned, but she still couldn't bring herself to pull her personal life together. One day just bled right into the next without any kind of distinction or indication that much time had passed.

The only way she knew was because Ginny woke up moaning in the middle of the night about ten weeks after Hermione arrived, and two days later she was home with James. And then James began to get bigger. Hermione started to focus on the baby. He distracted her enough at night that her tears stopped, and in the morning so she didn't think about the fact that today was the ninety-first day she was going to bed and waking up alone in almost four years.

"I'll help you." Ginny promised. "Harry, do you mind?" She asked, passing him their son.

"No, go ahead. I'll get him back to sleep." Harry took James easily and went back down the hall to the nursery.

"Come on. I'll make a fresh pot and your favorite pancakes." Ginny offered, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders as she guided her friend down the stairs.

~S~

Two weeks later Hermione stood outside the building housing her new flat. The purchase had been finalized that morning and she was just waiting for the Floo Network to be connected so she could begin moving her things from Harry and Ginny's house in Godric's Hollow. She had chosen the only remaining flat, located on the second to top floor. It took up the entire floor and was spacious enough for a family of four, but Hermione had it all to herself.

She loved the space. A large sitting room and kitchen with small dining area and breakfast counters. A master bedroom with attached bath, along with a second bathroom and guest room. She already had plans to turn the other two rooms into a personal office and library. It had taken a little prodding from Ginny to get her to purchase the flat. Of course, she had the money to do it, but she had never spent so much on one thing, just for herself, in all her life. It felt frivolous and unnecessary. She loved it.

Ron had always griped so much about saving money for the wedding, and then a family. They had purchased a small flat together with just one bedroom and a tiny bathroom. And then Ron had insisted on decorating. The end result was the wizarding version of a bachelor pad. That should have been the first clue. But Hermione was so blissed out by the fact at the time that she and Ron were moving in together that she had overlooked the plethora of Chudley Canons posters and the lack of her touch anywhere.

"I wonder who lives on the top floor." Ginny stated as she joined Hermione on the sidewalk and handed her a to-go cup of tea.

Hermione sipped her tea thoughtfully. "No idea. Haven't met the person yet. But I do know he moved in just last month."

" _He_?" Ginny asked.

"That's what the landlady said. "He moved about a month ago. Nice young guy."

"Nice _young_ guy." Ginny emphasized.

"Oh, don't start that. I'm not ready yet."

Ginny sniggered and sipped her tea. "I'm not trying to push you. I just want you to remember to keep the door open."

"I know. I got it." Hermione took another long sip and turned to her friend. "Ready to start this madness?"

Ginny grinned broadly. "Bring it on."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 **Note:** I screwed up my math a little when I was writing out this timeline. Five years have gone by since the first chapter. That puts Draco's return roughly around June 2003. James Sirius Potter has not been born yet according to Harry Potter Wiki. This is where I screwed up because I already introduced him. So, we're going to pretend it's around November 2003 starting with this chapter and that James is only two months old. There, timeline corrected. So, this means that Draco has been back in London since about June/July. Hermione and Ron broke up just before his return, and Hermione began staying with Harry and Ginny. She was with them for about 2 months or so before James was born. Again, like last chapter, sorry for any confusion this may cause. Ask away with any questions, and I'm going to go update my story journal. Bye!

* * *

Chapter 4 – October 19, 2003

 _Being the Head Curse-breaker really isn't so bad_ , Draco thought as he made his way back to his office. _I have my own space,_ (even if said space was located in a remote part of the Ministry) _I don't have to work very often with the goblins,_ (because they didn't trust him) _and most of my time is spent removing older, more dangerous curses from the treasure and artifacts brought back from excavations, or any precious family heirlooms or what-not that are brought in and can't be handled on sight,_ (and all of the requisite paperwork that went with that). No, being the Head Curse-breaker was really not that bad.

He had been back in London now for almost two months. He had moved into his own flat, a very spacious affair with huge windows and space aplenty for him to move around in. It wasn't as decorated as much as he wanted it to be yet, but he also hadn't spent much time in it either. He still went to see his mother every night, and more often than not slept at the manor, knowing how glad she was to have him home.

But that wasn't going to last forever. In fact, Draco had just spoken to his mother last night about it. She seemed to be moving on with her life well enough to not need his presence every day. Draco felt comfortable with visiting her only once, maybe twice depending on how busy he was, per week.

In truth, he was ready to live in his own place, knowing it was only his. He had somewhere to run to for sanctuary that no one else could intrude upon. Much like his office. Just his name on the door alone was enough to keep persons out that he didn't want to, or had no interest in, speaking with. Head Curse-breaker did have its benefits.

Draco had stepped easily into the roll after Jenkins left, still surprised with how smooth the transition was. He truly did have the support of his team. And they mostly kept to themselves, removing curses from the treasure they had brought back and making twice-weekly trips to the Ministry to hand in reports or pass off any piece that Draco needed to handle personally. It was going to take months to sort through it all. And part of Draco's job was making sure it was all documented properly. Which meant paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. Hence, why he was on his way back to his office.

He had stepped out for a much-needed cup of tea and a short walk to stretch his legs. Up until Jenkins left he had been sitting with the Aurors once more until space could be found to house him in a more sensible part of the Ministry. Which was how Draco found his new home in the Goblin Liaison Office within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

That, and Jenkins had made it very clear that Draco was to be given his own office (there was no arguing with the goblins about Draco taking an office within Gringotts. They did not want a former Death Eater in residence. Not after Voldemort had murdered so many goblins at the end of the war. They simply did not trust Draco). And that was perfectly fine. Draco didn't like the goblins all that much either. Distance was preferable.

But Jenkins had still stood up for him. Assertive in his belief of Draco's trustworthiness, and that he did not need to be under the nose of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had earned the position that Jenkins was passing to him, and should be treated as such.

Draco appreciated this, more so than he had let on initially, and intended to repay the kindness by doing his best to become the Head curse-breaker that Jenkins had been. So much so, that he even adopted a lighter color palette reflective of his mentor's. It had not escaped Draco's notice in Egypt how much cooler earth tones were than his typical black. And while black always looked professional, it was also intimidating, and that was the last thing Draco wanted to impart to his teammates.

Shades of brown, navy blues, and grays now proliferated his day-to-day suits. He didn't bother with Ministry robes. They were stuffy, baggy, and boring. And while he never put much effort into looking put-together, Draco could not deny the effect of well-tailored clothing. And because he spent a pretty galleon for such tailoring, he took care of his collection. Thus, it irritated him greatly when a small, female body crashed into him, her large stack of files hitting his mug of tea so that it splattered all over his tan waistcoat.

"Oh Merlin, I am _so_ sorry." Said the female. "I knew I shouldn't have taken so many files at once…Draco?"

Draco, distracted by the sudden dampness of his clothes, looked up from wiping away the hot liquid into a very familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Granger?" He asked, very confused because the young man woman in front of him did _not_ look like Hermione Granger.

This young woman had on a black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees, exposing her calves, which were very nicely shaped, and ended in bare feet encased in three-inch black heels. Tucked into the skirt was a burgundy blouse, the top two buttons open exposing the pale skin of her chest, but nothing else (very demure but still quite appealing). Her brown tresses were straight and pulled back into a high ponytail. Very sleek and not at all bushy and wild. He noticed as well, that she did not have on Ministry robes, but that didn't mean she didn't wear them in a professional capacity when necessary.

Draco looked her up and down once more, watching as she drew her wand and waived it over the mess of parchment. "Sorry." Hermione said again as the files flew up from the floor and righted themselves into her arms. She took in Draco's livid expression and the dark stain on his waistcoat.

"I can…fix it?"

"No." Draco brushed his hand over the stain as though to wipe it away. "Just be more observant, or take less files."

"It was an accident, Malfoy." Hermione stated, furrowing her eyebrows at his snippy tone. "There's no need to be unkind." She brushed past him, stirring the air and leaving a lingering scent of lilac behind.

Draco turned to watch. She disappeared around a cubicle and he heard an office door open and close loudly.

Had he been rude just now? His tone was a little clipped, but she _had_ just made him spill his tea all over his suit. His _fresh_ tea, mind you. The tea he desperately needed to get through the rest of his reports today. Add to the frustration that he was already behind, and now he would have to go back to the communal tea area for another cup.

Draco let out a deep sigh and continued to his office. Perhaps he should invest in his own personal teapot to keep on his desk. One of those self-boiling ones he saw in Diagon Alley last week. It had had a beautiful patter of green and silver filigree on it that caught his eye and sparked his Slytherin pride. The only reason he hadn't dropped the fifteen galleons on it was because he couldn't justify the cost of the convenience. He had the money of course, but why waste it on something that he could do so easily himself? Living in the desert with almost no magic for one year had taught him to be self-sufficient. And he had a great respect for that now.

But a little luxury now and again didn't hurt.

Draco set his mug down on his desk, already resigned to visit Diagon Alley on his lunch break to pick up the teapot. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the stain on his waistcoat. It vanished after a few moments, then he waved it once to remove the wrinkles. He set his wand down on top of a pile of documents on the corner of his desk and half-collapsed into his chair, running his palm over the few day's worth of stubble across his jaw that he hadn't bothered to shave this morning.

His mind was still reeling from the collision with Hermione Granger, (who didn't look like Hermione Granger). _Being single seems to really agree with her_ , Draco mused as an image of her retreating back flitted across his mind. He remembered the sway of her hips as she walked away from him, and the way her pencil skirt hugged her legs and her pert backside.

Draco shook his head with a start, shocked with the image his mind conjured. Not because of the sensual nature of it, (he always appreciated an attractive figure on a woman) but because it was Granger. _Hermione Granger_ , whom he had tormented for years. Called her foul names, and even wished death on her. (In his own defense, Draco had been a young, confused child. His view of the world twisted and corrupted by his bigot of a father)

But his opinion of the witch had changed over the years. She grew out of her need to thrust her hand into the air every time a professor asked a question, and did not seem as keen to draw attention to herself. That had only made Draco more aware of her. There was no denying her brilliance, (not when she consistently beat him in marks no matter how hard he studied).

Despite being a Gryffindor, or maybe because of it, he had never witnessed her courage until that night when she walked into his house knowing death most likely waited for her. But that hadn't stopped her from facing down his aunt. (Draco hated to think about the events of that evening, and his own weakness and cowardice that prevented him from doing anything to stop the torture he had witnessed).

But he had been exposed to similar torture himself. The pain of receiving the Dark Mark was never far from his memory. His left forearm still ached on occasion and he caught himself rubbing at it. And if he wasn't thinking about the Mark, his mind would conjure the remembered pain of being under the Cruciatus curse.

Draco shook his head fervently to rid himself of the memories that forced themselves on him behind closed eyes. He shuffled a few papers around on his desk and grabbed up his quill, switching his mind over to work. Lots of work.

~S~

"How is it working with Malfoy?" Harry asked from where he sat in the arm chair across from Hermione. She was standing behind her desk pulling files from a cabinet.

"I don't actually work with him. He's at the other end of the department. I hardly ever see him." She commented, dropping three files on her desk with a 'thud'. "I bumped into him last week, but I haven't seen him since." _Literally bumped into him_ , Hermione thought. _Maybe that's why I haven't seen him. He wants to avoid another tea incident._ "Why, do you want me to spy on him for you?" She teased Harry, settling herself into her chair.

"No. Well, now that you mention it…" Harry mocked a thoughtful expression for a moment. "No, I really don't care about him. He keeps to himself, or so I've heard. But some of the other Aurors…"

"Ronald." Hermione interrupted, flipping through her top file.

"Yes, him as well." Harry responded, "feel that we should still be keeping an eye on him."

"And because you have to answer to the department Head, you want me to keep tabs?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "I said I don't care. I was just making a comment."

"Oh." Hermione felt relieved. She really didn't want to have to spy on Malfoy just because she happened to work in the same department. It was ridiculous, and Ministry interference at its extreme.

"Speaking of Ron, though," Harry started hesitantly, and he watched Hermione wince as she flipped open her second file. "You saw the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Yes." Hermione breathed out, sounding very determined. She kept her eyes firmly on the work in front of her.

"Hermione, I'm sor-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Hermione snapped, looking up suddenly. "If he wants to swan around and…you know…get engaged to someone else that's his business." She made a show of rearranging the files she had taken out, her eyes dropping from Harry's once more.

Harry nodded. He wasn't going to push the matter. "I'm here if you need to talk. Ginny, too. Actually, why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

"No, it's your anniversary." Hermione shook her head, blushing lightly from embarrassment.

Harry shrugged. "So? We've been married three years. Come over tonight. I'm sure someone would love to see his godmother."

Hermione smiled at that. James was such a precious, little baby. She loved him dearly, and always felt better when she saw him. "I'll think about it."

That was enough for Harry. He got up from the chair and walked around to kiss the top of Hermione's head and squeezed her shoulder. "Take it easy today." He said.

"Thank you, Harry, but unfortunately that's not up to you."

Harry smiled. "I know, but I wanted to say it anyway." He turned to go but stopped at the door when Hermione asked,

"Did you know?"

"Harry shook his head. "No." He answered honestly. "We don't talk about her."

Hermione nodded once, accepting this.

She worked diligently on her three open cases all morning, pausing briefly to get herself a cup of tea. She had just returned and settled back in to continue her research on goblin property rights in Scotland and Ireland when a knock sounded on her office door. It opened before she could say anything and Draco Malfoy walked in. He was wearing a gray three-piece suit today, sans jacket at the moment, paired with a white dress shirt and plaid-striped tie in different shades of blue. Her eyes wandered over the fit of his waistcoat, her view unobstructed due to the lack of jacket. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her less put-together appearance of a black sheath dress over which she wore a black and red cardigan and a black, skinny, patent leather belt. Simple compared to Malfoy's polished look.

"I believe these are yours." Draco said, holding up several files. He walked in and dropped them on the desk. It didn't escape his notice that Granger had worn her hair sleek again today. Well, sleeker than the wild curls he was used to seeing.

Instead of chaos, they were relaxed and soft around her face. He stared at her for a moment, just to make sure this really was Hermione Granger. After all, he hadn't laid eyes on her for almost a week, (completely oblivious to her prior to that). And when he did last, it was with complete and utter disbelief. He noticed a fresh cup of tea sitting on her desk, and a cursory glance around her office when he first walked in told him that she did not have her own pot. Draco had invested in the self-boiling model, and thus had had no reason to leave his office recently. Except to check the front desk for incoming reports and drop off his own completed ones.

Knowing that Granger frequented the communal tea area made him rethink that purchase.

 _Wait? What am I saying? Thinking? Get a grip, Draco. It's Granger._

The witch in question picked up the files he had dropped and added them to a pile on her left. "Thank you. You didn't have to bring them all the way over here."

"Well, whomever is sorting at the main desk today is doing an abysmal job of it."

He said it in a clipped and irritated way. _If it was such an inconvenience, why bother?_ Hermione thought.

"Just because goblins are involved does not automatically mean it goes to me." He drawled, and turned to go.

Frustrated with his rudeness, not that she should have expected anything less because it _was_ Malfoy after all, Hermione pushed back from her desk and stood. "Wait." She tugged her cardigan straight and smoothed out the front of her dress.

Draco turned at the door, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, earning a second eyebrow quirk. She found her voice, finally, but before she could stop herself she blurted out, "Thank you, again. I appreciate you bringing them here." _That's not what I wanted to say_!

Draco didn't respond, but watched as the witch in front of him mulled something over in her mind. "Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"Excuse me?" Draco felt both of his eyebrows rise this time.

"Lunch? With me?" Hermione prompted again. "You know, the meal usually eaten around midday?"

"Yes, I'm not that thick, Granger." Draco stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I don't think so. I don't make very good company."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"I don't think so." Draco repeated, and turned to exit her office, shutting the door quietly behind him.

~S~

"I don't even know what I was thinking." Hermione prattled later that evening to Ginny as her friend poured her a drink. Harry had yet to return from the ministry but would be home shortly, seeing as it was his wedding anniversary.

Ginny slid the glass of elf-made wine across the kitchen island to her friend, who took it but didn't drink.

"I should have known he would be the same awful…snarky…prat he always was."

"Why did you ask him in the first place?" Ginny wondered out loud, sipping from her own glass.

Hermione shrugged. "It just sort of spilled out. He looked like he could use some company."

"Maybe he doesn't want any."

"Obviously." Hermione said dryly, finally lifting her glass to sip gratefully. "Don't let me have too much of this. You remember what happened last time."

"I'll never let you live it down." Ginny promised.

Hermione was a lightweight when it came to wizarding alcoholic drinks. Particularly wine. The last time she had had elf-made wine it had taken Harry, Ginny, and Ron over an hour to get her off the roof where she had managed to levitate herself and was spouting water, sprinkler-like, from her wand while laughing maniacally.

She and Ginny both turned at the sound of the fireplace roaring to life. Harry walked out of the green flames a moment later brushing ash off his robes. He set his bag down in the living room and walked into the kitchen and kissed Ginny first in greeting and then Hermione, although hers was on the cheek.

"Where's James?" Harry asked as he hung his robes over the back of a chair.

"Asleep." Ginny answered. "He should be awake in a few hours for a bottle." She poured a glass of wine for her husband and handed it to him. They wished each other a happy anniversary and kissed again.

Hermione, not bothered in the slightest, turned her face away to give the couple some privacy. She looked up when she heard Ginny giggle and smiled fondly at her two friends.

"I wish I could bottle some of that to carry around with me." Hermione commented as the two broke apart.

Harry moved to the side to give the frying pan with their dinner in it a shake and flipped the cod fillets. "Oh bugger." He cursed as the fish fell apart.

"Forget something?" Ginny asked, pulling her wand out.

"This is why you cook and I don't." Harry muttered, trying to piece the fish back together.

"Yes, I know." Ginny bumped him with her hip to make her husband move and took over stovetop duty. "You can make the pasta salad." She told him, and flicked her wand at the pantry.

The door opened and a pile of ingredients levitated out setting themselves on the counter. Harry grumbled again, but went about making the salad, wand in hand. Hermione watched, amused with the polite bickering between the two.

She wondered wistfully if, someday, she would ever find the same unconditional love.

~S~

Draco sat next to his mother at the dining table, stirring his soup disinterestedly. He sipped a little bit every few minutes, but his mind was not on the food in front of him. He had come over this evening at her request, having not seen her in almost ten days, and to catch up. But he had barely spoken a dozen words since walking through the front door.

"What's on your mind, dear?" Narcissa asked, setting her own spoon down so she could focus on her son.

 _More like who_ , Draco mused. "Nothing." He muttered, chin in his hand.

"Draco, you know how I feel about elbows on the table."

Draco slid his arm off the table, setting his hand in his lap, but he still stared down into his soup bowl.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"When was the last time you slept _well_?"

Draco sighed, switching hands with his soup spoon. "I don't know."

"I could give you something. I have several…"

"No," Draco cut her off. "I don't need them. I haven't had nightmares in years. It's just stress." He settled his chin in his hand again and returned to stirring his soup.

Narcissa let the matter drop, and didn't comment this time on his bad posture. She reached over and covered his hand with her own, giving it a squeeze, then picked up her own spoon and began to eat again. "I went to visit Lucius a few days ago. He's been moved to a different part of…that place. The Healers from St. Mungo's believe the sea air will help with his breathing."

"Good." _No wonder she wanted me to come over. She's still shaking off the effect of the prison and doesn't want to be alone._

"He seems to be doing well enough." Narcissa commented.

"Good." Draco muttered again, taking a small sip of his, now cold, soup. _I wonder what would have happened if I had said yes today?_

"Draco, please, you're worrying me. What is going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing of import." He answered, looking up and trying to seem convincing.

"Did something happen at the Ministry today?"

"No."

"Then what has you so distracted? Is it a woman?"

Draco snorted quietly. "I suppose." He sipped his wine and set the goblet down before taking another small sip of cold soup.

"That's not really an answer, dear."

Draco sighed this time and pushed his bowl away. It was mostly full and completely unappetizing due to temperature. "What answer would you like me to give, Mother?

"I would like to know that you are all right. That you are happy."

"I am." _Mostly_.

"What did this woman say to you?"

"Mother, really?"

Narcissa smiled indulgently at her son and reached over to take his hand again. "It wouldn't hurt to have company beyond mine, Draco. It might do you some good."

Draco pulled his hand away as she let go and hung his head. Of course, she was right. She was his mother, and she always knew what was best for him. But what would she say if she knew the woman who was currently taking up residence in his thoughts was Hermione Granger? Would she still be supportive of the additional company? Or tell him he could find better elsewhere?

"As I have always told you, Draco." She paused, her features softening, "Do what makes you happy."

"Whatever makes me happy?" He questioned back, looking up from where he had folded his hands on the table.

"Whatever, whomever. Just live your life, dear. That's all I want." She rose from the table and walked over to kiss the top of his head. "That's all I've ever wanted."

 _Well then._ Draco watched his mother sit back down to finish her supper. He pulled his bowl back towards him and warmed the soup with a casual swirl of his wand, intent on actually eating this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Note: I know I dropped off the face of the earth again…I blame it on my now very active social life. Which I love, so I'm really not that sorry. I started hanging out with this awesome group of nerds who all love HP, and we're all crazy and creative, and love to write and paint and play video games. I'm almost 30 and this is the first time I've ever had such an amazing group of people around me who actually _like_ sitting around and doing nothing sometimes. And sometimes we just watch TV and drink. All in all, it's been an incredible summer so far (at least as far as my social life goes)

Thank you everyone for your reviews, follows, and favorites! I hope I got to everyone. If I missed you I apologize. Sometimes not every single review shows up in my inbox. If I didn't respond let me know and I will go back into the reviews and do so. Hufflehugs all around! Enjoy the chapter, it's one of my favorites

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Chapter 5 – October 24, 2003

Hermione did not receive any knocks on her office door for several days. Well, any knocks from a certain blonde, Slytherin, curse-breaker. Draco's rejection didn't sting, but that didn't mean she didn't think about it. He didn't reject Hermione personally, at least that's what she liked to believe, but rather rejected the idea of being in anyone's company because he believed himself horrid at providing it in return.

She knew there wasn't much she could do to change his mind on this, he would have to come to that determination on his own. It irked her that he felt that way. Clearly, it may do him some benefit to spend time with other people. But she wasn't going to force the issue with him. Draco Malfoy was a grown man.

 _Indeed, he is_.

The thought flitted across her mind before Hermione could stop it, along with an image of the man in question in the suit he had been wearing the last time she saw him. Which was ten days ago now.

 _Cut it out, Hermione._ The witch chastised herself.

With a sigh, she set her quill down and glanced at the clock on her desk. She had worked straight through her morning break again and it was now almost one in the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled in protest.

"Yes, all right." Hermione told herself. She rose from her desk and grabbed her beaded handbag.

The cafeteria was sparsely occupied. A table here or there with other Ministry witches and wizards taking their midday meal. Hermione chose a small two-seater table away from the main area and sat. She pulled a small container from deep within her bag, cool to the touch from the stasis charm she had put on it to keep the food inside fresh.

She pulled the lid off, reveling a little at the treat inside. She had been looking forward to this for days. Hermione picked up the chopsticks and prepared to pluck her first piece from the tray.

"What in Merlin's name are you eating, Granger?"

She looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing in front of her. He was holding a plastic bowl covered with a lid and a small paper bag. "Is that raw fish?"

"Indeed. It's called sushi." She picked up the first piece and popped it into her mouth. The fresh taste of tuna and avocado danced over her taste buds and she sighed in contentment.

"It looks disgusting."

Hermione finished chewing and swallowed. "What can I help you with, Malfoy?"

Draco looked down at his feet for a moment then back up at her. "I may have been…rude to you last week. You were simply trying to be kind and I…I was an arse."

Hermione felt her eyes widen in surprise, and she paused lifting the second piece of sushi to her mouth. She set the food and her chopsticks down. She then folded her arms on the table and fixed Draco with a piercing look.

"And you're here because…?"

"I wanted to apologize." Draco admitted.

Silence passed between them. Hermione let her eyes wander over his face. There were light circles under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved this morning. The result was a dusting of dark blonde stubble over his chin and jaw. His blonde hair was parted to the left, flopping over his forehead. He had let the back grow down past his ears where it curled slightly. And if she wasn't mistaken, it wasn't quite as platinum anymore. There were gold highlights all throughout. From too many years in the dessert? Was it permanent, or something he added with a glamour charm?

He had chosen a white, brown, and blue striped dress shirt and gold tie paired with a tan waistcoat. It took Hermione to realize it was _that_ waistcoat. The one she had spilled tea all over. His wool trousers matched the waistcoat, and she would bet so did the jacket. If he were wearing it.

She tore her eyes away from her assessment to see Draco shifting from foot to foot again. Unsure.

"Go on," Hermione encouraged, not bothering to mask her expectant tone, "You can do it."

"No need to be patronizing, Granger." Draco grumbled. He sighed once and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

"May I sit?"

"Please," Hermione indicated the chair across from her.

Draco sat down and popped the lid off his bowl. He pulled his wand out and swirled it over the stew until wisps of steam began to curl from the surface. He produced a spoon and a piece of flatbread from the paper bag.

Hermione sniffed, picking up some familiar flavors. Carrots, garlic, pepper, stewed meat. But there were others she couldn't place. Something warm and pungent. It smelled delicious.

"What is that?"

"Rabbit stew. But not the kind you're used to." Draco tore off a bit of bread and dunked it in the stew before handing it over the table to her.

Hermione accepted it and nibbled the end. She wound up popping the whole piece into her mouth. Delicious was an understatement. The stew was rich and spicy, but only in taste. There was no actual heat associated with it. She chewed slowly and swallowed. "Very exotic."

Draco ate a healthy spoonful, allowing the corner of his mouth to quirk up into a smile. "Not quite as exotic as your choice of sustenance."

"Don't judge it until you try it." Hermione offered him a bit of her salmon nigiri.

Draco waived his hand in the air, declining. "I'm not feeling that brave today, Granger."

"Oh well, more for me." She bit the piece in half and chewed slowly, savoring the creamy texture of the fish. "You're really missing out."

"I don't doubt you."

"Don't you?" Hermione questioned. She picked up another piece. Cooked shrimp. "Try this."

Draco gave her a questioning look, but reached for the piece of sushi and took it. He examined the cooked seafood on top. He had had shrimp many times in his life. He liked it. Loved it, actually. But he had never had it served over a ball of rice and nothing else. It looked, for lack of a better word, plain.

He bit off half the piece and chewed for a few moments. It wasn't quite as plain as he first surmised. The rice had a faint vinegar taste to it. And then there was a new texture, something a bit pasty. Heat surged across his tongue and he coughed. It wasn't the hottest thing he had ever tasted, but it was unexpected.

Hermione giggled from across the table.

"What in Merlin's name was that?"

"Wasabi. It's a kind of horseradish."

Draco coughed again and patted his chest. "That was…"

"Tasty?" Hermione offered.

"Different."

She laughed again and flashed a smile. Her entire face brightened momentarily. He was caught off guard at the light in her eyes. She was amused because of him. But not in an unkind way. She was genuinely glad to have him sitting there with her.

"I'm glad you changed your mind, Draco." Hermione admitted, going back to her lunch.

"As am I." Draco agreed. He paused, and then added with a slightly sarcastic tone. "I think."

That earned him another smile.

~S~

The high-pitched, tinkling sound of laughter (obnoxious laughter) made Harry pick his head up from the report that he had been deeply engrossed in. He was comparing notes from two teams of Aurors on three different Death Eaters they had been following for several months now. Sightings of the individuals were conflicting and he was curious to see if there were similarities in observances between the two teams.

It irked him greatly that his concentration was broken yet again by the very familiar laughter just outside his door. He shoved the reports away and grasped his hair in both hands. He really needed to have these reports read by end of the day today for the meeting tomorrow morning.

The same laughter sounded again, followed by a squeal. Harry got up this time and stood in his office door. Ron's desk was just around the corner and from his vantage point Harry could see that he had company. A head of curly, dark blonde hair stood by his cubicle. Ron was currently not in his seat, but standing with this arms around the body attached to said curly head of hair. He was smiling at her, laughing at whatever joke they were sharing.

Ron caught site of Harry and the disapproving look on the senior Auror's face. He looked back to Lavender and smiled again, kissed her once and promised to meet her in the atrium when it was time to leave. Ron watched her go, loving the show she always gave as she swayed her hips in retreat.

"Visiting again?" Harry asked as he approached once Lavender was out of sight.

"Actually, she just got a position with the _Prophet_."

"Still visiting, though, Ron. That's the third time this week. I don't mind that she comes by, but it's becoming distracting. And not just for you."

Ron looked around. Everyone else was working with their heads down. No one seemed disturbed. He shrugged at Harry as he turned back. "I don't see an issue. I'm sorry if she was bothering you. Did someone else say something?"

"No." Harry said pointedly.

Ron crossed his arms. "You never had this problem when Hermione would visit."

"Because Hermione knows how to be respectful of everyone else around her."

Ron frowned. "Is Lav really that disruptive or is this more personal than that?"

Harry hesitated. He almost said 'both'. "I just wanted to come out and ask that you keep the visits to a minimum, or request that she keep her voice down when she stops by."

"Are you sure this isn't personal?"

"I don't want to get into anything here, Ron."

 _That's a cop out_ , Ron thought to himself. "Fine, whatever." He sighed, and turned away to sit back down in his chair, getting back to work.

Harry huffed in frustration but returned to his own office and shut the door this time. He slumped down in the chair and laid his head on his desk on top of his folded arms. After several minutes, (or longer, he really didn't know) of muttering to himself about how much of a git his best friend had become in the last few months, he sat up, pulled his pile of reports toward him and began to read again.

Not two minutes later, he interrupted again by his office door opening. Ron strode in looking livid. Now Harry was really starting to get frustrated. Number one, because Ron hadn't knocked first, and number two, because he literally had just begun to read again.

"Yes, Ron?" Harry asked as his red-headed best friend stopped in front of his desk.

"Do you know who I just saw Hermione walking out of the cafeteria with?"

"McLaggen?" Harry guessed, shrugging. He honestly didn't care.

"No. Bloody Malfoy!" Ron half-shouted through gritted teeth.

"Well, they do work in the same department."

"And they were smiling together!" Ron continued, not having heard Harry's comment.

"So? I'm sure Malfoy is capable of a half-decent conversation these days."

"Do you think she's dating him?" Ron asked, feeling suddenly suspicious of what he had just witnessed.

Harry looked down to his desk and shook his head. "No, Ron, she isn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Hermione visits with Ginny and I regularly. She tells us everything."

"She never told me everything." Ron grumbled as he slumped into a chair. "And Lavender tends to overshare."

"Are you sure she never told you everything? Or were you just not listening?"

Instead of the outburst Harry had been expecting as soon as the question left his mouth, Ron slumped into one of the chairs facing his desk and leaned forward, head in his hands. Was it just him, or did Harry detect a feeling of guilt in his best friend?

"I really ballsed things up between us. Didn't I?" Ron asked, picking his head back up.

Harry didn't answer. He just stared at his friend. Did seeing Hermione walking around with another man, Malfoy even, really have this much an effect?

"I never meant to hurt her, you know."

"Then why, in Merlin's name, did you cheat on her, Ron?" Harry half shouted. But he stopped himself before he could continue. "Look, here really isn't the place for this. If you're feeling guilty over what happened then you need to go talk to Hermione about it. And I don't mean right now. But maybe tomorrow after you've had some time to think."

"Do you believe she'll actually have a conversation with me?" Ron asked, skeptical at the thought.

Harry shrugged. "That's up to Hermione. I wouldn't try and start the conversation with an accusation about Malfoy, though."

Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust and stood. "Guess you're right. Well, I'll think about it. I do feel like I owe her an explanation."

"About why you _cheated_?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Ron shook his head. "No. I mean yes. I mean…I don't know. I just feel like there isn't closure."

"For you maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry sighed. "Just that Hermione is moving on with her life. And she may not want to hear any explanations from you. But you need to go and try to talk to her to find that out for sure. I won't speak for her."

"And what am I supposed to do if she's dating Malfoy?"

"So, what if she is? You should be happy that she's happy. Regardless of whom it's with."

~S~

Hermione hummed to herself as she cleaned up her desk, straightening sheets of parchment and filing them away. Today had been another good day. She had made progress on her goblin property dispute, and won another case for a recently freed house-elf. Scooter, the young female elf, was now employed at the Leaky Cauldron, still free, but not willing to accept compensation. Yet. Hermione was happy with the victory that she accomplished, getting the little elf work. And would check in on her from time to time to see if she was accepting pay.

Draco had also had lunch with her again today. Which made three times in the last week since he had first sat with her in the cafeteria. He had turned up, same as before, just after she sat down. Which made Hermione think he had been waiting to see her leave the department. His office had a view of the main entrance, so he would have been able to catch a glimpse of her as she left. But this _was_ Draco Malfoy, and as much as she wanted to believe that he had been waiting, she knew that it was very unlikely. And he had probably been keeping track of the time.

Draco had approached the table she chose, a small corner booth once more away from the bustle, and smiled at her. He sat down without asking this time and proceeded to conjure a bowl of salad made from grains, fruit, and cheese. It looked, and smelled, delicious. It seemed his time in Egypt had heavily influenced his taste culinarily. Draco offered her a healthy spoonful of the salad. It was cold, chewy, sweet, and salty. Hermione was instantly in love with the food.

"What is that?"

"Cous cous. It's a pasta, but eats like cereal." Draco explained. "The first time I had it there was a bunch of herbs in it. Delicious, but I started making my own. I grew very fond of goat cheese and dried fruit."

"It's so good." Hermione said with her hand over her mouth as she chewed,

"I see you haven't chosen something exotic today." Draco nodded at her sandwich. Turkey and muenster on rye. One of her favorites.

"I needed comfort food today." Hermione pulled a bite off the sandwich and popped it into her mouth.

It had been a very enjoyable lunch. Draco told her some stories of his first year away from England, when he had been in exile. She wasn't surprised to hear that he got along mostly by muggle means, and taught himself to cook. What surprised her was that he still did it. Because it was relaxing.

Hermione had to agree. She loved to bake. Cooking had never been a skill for her, but she could whip up some serious banana bread. When she mentioned this, Draco's eyes went wide and she promised, laughingly, to make him a loaf.

For some reason that memory of Draco's expression kept coming back to her throughout the rest of the day, brightening her mood. Which led to her humming as she tidied up her desk for the weekend. She left out the files she would need first thing Monday morning and locked up her filing cabinet before tucking away any loose documents in her beaded bag to take home and continue work on. Hermione then took out her wand and waved it in front of her. She watched dust zoom toward her from every surface as though it were being siphoned up by her wand. She tried to do this every Friday, but the last few weeks she had been more concerned with going home than leaving a clean office.

"Nifty."

Hermione turned to see her ex-fiancé leaning in the doorway to her office. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was smiling indulgently at her.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked as she lowered her wand.

"Just because we broke up doesn't mean I can't visit, does it?" Ron asked.

 _Tactless_ , Hermione thought as she slipped her wand up her sleeve and into its holster. "No. But what I meant was why are you still in the Ministry? It's after six. Don't Aurors finish at five?"

"If we're not in the field. But I figured you would be working late. You always do. And look, I was right. So, I came by."

Hermione huffed a little in annoyance and lets his dig slide off her. "Any particular reason?" She asked, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice as she gathered her coat and bag, slinging the latter over her shoulder and the former over her arm.

"Do I need one?" Ron laughed. His face fell a little when he took in the frustration on Hermione's.

"I only ask because you've never found it necessary to "visit" me before. At least not since March."

"And here we are in October." Ron announced.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow as if to ask "and…?"

"I just wanted to come by and see you." Ron admitted, standing up straight.

"Well, thank you for the thought. I'm perfectly lovely." Hermione started to walk out of her office and Ron moved so she could shut the door and lock it.

"Are you dating Malfoy?"

Hermione turned and stared at Ron in disbelief. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Even if I was, and I'm not, it wouldn't be any of business of yours, Ronald Weasley. Now, excuse me." Hermione attempted to move past him and Ron let her pass.

This was not how he wanted this conversation to go. He had come by to actually talk to her. And wound up interrogating her. Shaking himself, Ron snapped out of the stupor he fell into whenever Hermione began to snap at him.

"Hermione, wait." He called after her, jogging to catch up.

Hermione stopped and turned to face him. "Yes, Ron?" She asked, exhaustion now coloring her tone.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be an arse. I really did come by to see you. I wanted to know how you're doing."

"Lovely. Like I said. And happy."

"Really?" Ron wasn't sure if he believed her or not. She looked happy, albeit a little tired. But still happy. The stress that had always been so prevalent on her face was no longer there and Ron had to wonder if _he_ had been the cause.

It made something in his chest ache. He recalled from only moments before how his mind had drifted once Hermione began berating him for his question about Malfoy. He had developed this habit early on in their relationship as a self-preservation technique. That, and he just couldn't bear to argue with her sometimes. They had spent so much of their youth arguing that by the time they were adults, Ron was sick of it. He typically conceded to her more often than not, and that only incensed Hermione further. Because, as Harry had pointed out only last week, Ron didn't listen. Hermione's voice became a warm buzz in his ear that he grew used to ignoring.

"Are you paying attention?"

Ron snapped out of his musings yet again. Hermione was staring at him in concern.

"Yes, sorry. Long day." Ron tacked on quickly. It was true, mostly. He had been out in the field with Harry early. Very early. And then spent the remainder of his morning and all afternoon catching up on paperwork. Which was why he was working late, and decided to take the walk to see Hermione.

He knew she would still be in her office. Passion and dedication had always been two of Hermione's strongest traits, and Ron had to wonder again if his lack of these two attributes in their relationship spurred the continued growth of them in Hermione professionally. In turn, making her stay later and later, and not want to come home to someone she knew would pay her little attention.

Hermione watched her ex-fiancé's face, positive that his mind was whirling behind his blue eyes. She gave him a few moments to sort through it all. She could only guess as to why he suddenly felt the urge to visit her. She had been pondering the same things lately, if her guess was correct. Hermione took a fortifying breath and reached out to touch Ron's shoulder.

"Look, we're both at fault for what happened between us. We're better friends than lovers."

Ron's face relaxed. "So…you're not mad at me?"

"I am mad."

Ron blanched.

"You still cheated on me. But as far as how we handled our emotions and our lack of communication…That falls on both of us." Hermione took her hand down. "I appreciate you coming to talk to me, Ron. I really am happy. I'm ok. Are you?" She gave him a searching look.

"Yeah, I suppose." I guess what I miss is…us. As friends." Ron clarified.

Hermione considered. She had just said they make…made…better friends. She did miss Ron. Didn't she? Her emotions were on the fence. Yes, he had a been a great friend. When he wasn't insulting her, or giving her the cold shoulder, or arguing with her over mundane, trivial, day-to-day issues. But those times had occurred more often than the easy, agreeable friendship she shared with Harry and Ginny.

When Hermione got down to it, she realized that what Ron missed, what he considered friendship, was using Hermione as a crutch. Emotionally, magically, professionally. She was convenient for him. And what guarantee did she have the he wouldn't continue to use her in the same way? Merlin knew Lavender couldn't provide the same support. Or perhaps she could. Hermione didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. But that still left how she felt about Ron now.

"I understand." Hermione responded. "Let's play it by ear for now, Ron."

Ron shrugged. If that was the best she could offer, he would have to live with it. "Yeah, ok." He knew he had screwed up and broken her trust. And he was going to have to earn it back.

But was that something he really wanted to fight for anymore? They had known each other since they were eleven (twelve in Hermione's case). There were too many memories and feelings between them to just let each other go without a backwards glance. But they didn't owe each other anything anymore.

Hermione tried not to take Ron's dejected tone as an insult. She gave him a small smile and whispered, "Ok," and moved past him. It was better to leave the conversation now then stand around and wait for it to become more awkward.

"Good night, 'Mione."

She turned and waved. "Good night, Ron."

Hermione passed Draco's office on her way out. She turned and saw Ron leaving the department, walking in the direction of the lifts. She glanced ahead at his office door to see if he was there. Sometimes he walked out with her. Most nights he didn't. He was either already gone, or his office lights were still on and the door closed. Hermione appreciated his work ethic, but felt bad at the level of responsibility he had as a single person. Every time she caught a glimpse of Draco through a crack in his office door he was eyeballs deep in paperwork.

Tonight, he was still in his office, lights on, sitting at his desk. The sleeves of his dress shirt, navy blue today, were rolled up to his elbows and he had removed his tie and waistcoat. What caught Hermione's attention was the pair of black rimmed spectacles he wore as he read over a file in front of him. His eyebrows were drawn as he went over the information on the parchment. Draco reached for a cup of tea with his left hand and Hermione caught site of the faded scar of his Dark Mark on the inside of his forearm.

The sight of it, surprisingly, didn't spark any kind of negative feeling in her. In fact, it had just the opposite. It sparked sympathy. She knew he must have assumed that no one else was around if he felt comfortable enough to roll his sleeves up exposing the mark. She had noticed that when around other Ministry employees he always had his sleeves cuffed at the wrist, hiding what lay underneath.

The thought made her frown, and she started to walk on.

"Granger?"

Hermione stopped and went back to Draco's partially open door. She pushed it open enough to side step into his office. "Yes?"

"Are you heading out? Obviously, you have coat." Draco asked, as he noted the garment over her arm. He smiled, embarrassed and shuffled some parchment on his desk. He was still wearing his black spectacles, but didn't move to take them off. Instead he made a show of straightening up his desk and then rolling down sleeves as though to straighten up his appearance.

"Yes, actually. Finally." Hermione laughed to herself, remembering Ron's comments from just before.

"It has been that kind of day." Draco confirmed. He made a short stack of files that he would finish reviewing Monday morning. It was getting late and he was tired.

"Indeed."

"If you want to wait a moment I'll walk out with you?" He offered, removing his spectacles and placing them in a drawer.

"Oh, sure. I'll just be outside." And she turned to go wait.

"No need." Draco called after her. He slung his waistcoat on and buttoned it up before pulling on his suit jacket. He rolled up the tie and stuffed it into a pocket.

Hermione watched, intrigued with the behavior. Everything seemed so casual. As though he wasn't having an internal battle over the fact that he had just told Hermione Granger there was no need for her to walk away. That she could stay right where she was as he readied himself to walk her out.

Draco flicked his wand at his office as he walked out and shut the door. The lights went out and he locked up for the weekend.

"How was the rest of your afternoon?" He asked as they neared the lifts.

"Busy. A lot of meetings. How was yours?"

"Busy. A lot of paperwork. Typical Friday."

"Hm," Hermione made a noise of agreement. They took a lift to the atrium and followed a few other Ministry employees still straggling behind at day's end to the bank of fireplaces. "Have a good weekend, Draco." Hermione wished as she stepped up next.

"You too, Granger." Draco smirked at her.

Hermione called out the apparition point near her flat and disappeared in a rush of green flames. Her intention was to stop for some take away for dinner and then head home.

Draco stared as he realized the apparition point she had called out was the same one he normally used. Did that mean Hermione lived near his flat? Or even in the same building? Draco shook his head. No. He would know if she did. The floor below his had been vacant when he moved in, but then occupied a few weeks later. He had never bothered to find out who had moved in, not interested.

Well, now he was. More so just to find out if a certain frizzy-haired, brunette witch was living below him.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Enjoy the read!

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Chapter 6 – November 12, 2003

Draco stepped out of his fireplace and bushed off the little bit of ash that had settled on to his jacket. He walked over to the entryway and flicked the switch that controlled the electric lighting he had had installed. The landlady, a middle-aged witch with a penchant toward kneazles and knitting, had mentioned it when he first moved in. After having lived by candlelight and campfire for the last few years, he chose to take the muggle option of electric light. It was very convenient, which he discovered soon after moving in. Draco had opted for other muggle conveniences as well that ran off electricity, including a refrigerator and something called a microwave. (When he brought this up in conversation with Hermione one day at lunch he thought the muggle-born was going to fall out of her chair in shock)

Draco had already made much use of the refrigerator, but had yet to utilize the microwave. He would never admit it, but all the buttons made him nervous. And so, he settled at night for cooking his meals himself. He had become very adept at the skill and was growing to love the experimentation involved with different recipes. It was relaxing. He had total focus on the task at hand, and could allow everything else in his mind to fall away.

But that escape eluded him tonight as he prepared his dinner, noodles in a sundried tomato pesto, and his mind continually wandered downstairs. He would have to ask his landlady about the flat below him and if it was currently occupied. Hildred, the landlady, lived in the flat on the first floor, renting out the floors above her. Draco was grateful for her lack of questions, and even more grateful for the inexpensive cost to live in her building. It was located in one of the busier parts of London near the Ministry, with an approved apparition point just a few blocks away, and one the best teashops Draco had been in just up the street.

The building was charmed to appear mostly as itself. Except with a sign on the front door stating that there were no vacancies at this time. Although if a witch or wizard were to look at it, they would see not only the available vacancy, but all the details of the flats and Hildred's preferred contact time. There were three flats in all, and when Draco had moved in they were all empty. He had chosen the top floor more for seclusion and roominess than the view (although he wasn't complaining about it).

He had decorated the space in cream and off-white, with a gray wall here and there for accent. Growing up in Malfoy manor surrounded by dark paneled walls had left him wanting for a space that felt open and airy. He had done his bedroom in ivory and shades of blue with green thrown in here and there. It reminded him of being on his broomstick, with the blue sky above, and green land below, and the feeling of absolute freedom that flying brought him.

Draco couldn't deny that he missed his Nimbus 2001. It had been years since the last time he had flown. His broomstick was currently back at Malfoy manor in his old bedroom. Perhaps the next time he had dinner with his mother he would retrieve it and take it for a few loops around the quidditch pitch on the south side of the property. Just thinking about it, Draco could almost feel the wind in his hair, the cold bite of it on his nose and cheeks as he whipped through the sky. It was exhilarating and frightening all at once to be up so high, supported by only a thin piece of wood and a few twigs.

Sometimes Draco wondered if he would have been better off staying in exile. There were days when he couldn't fight the sensation that he was still a prisoner. Even though it had been his choice to return, and his choice to be a curse-breaker. This wasn't the life he had imagined he would have at twenty-three, but it _was_ better than being locked away in prison. With this in mind, Draco's thoughts turned to his father, and he wondered how the former Malfoy patriarch was faring inside the dark walls of Azkaban.

The last he had heard from his mother was that Lucius Malfoy was ill once more with pneumonia, weakened both physically and magically from his years in prison. Draco had never wished such a state on his father, not knowing how the prolonged incarceration would affect him. He had never been to visit and had no desire to set foot in that wretched place ever again. He left that to his mother. Now that he thought about it, Draco wondered if Narcissa was planning to see his father before Christmas. He would have to ask.

As if in an answer to his thoughts, there was a sharp tap on his French doors. Draco set down his mostly empty plate and crossed the flat to open one door. His mother's owl, a pure white, male snowy sat on the wrought iron ledge of his balcony, a letter clasped in its beak.

"Hello, Castor." Draco stroked the owl's head and took the letter from its beak. He grabbed a few owl nuts from the bowl he kept for his own owl Pollux, another white male snowy, (except his had a single black spot on the top of his head), and fed them to his mother's owl before he took off.

Draco and Narcissa had ventured into Diagon Alley together to purchase their owls and came across the pair at the Owl Emporium. The names had been his mother's idea, and he liked them. He had set his eagle owl free at the end of the war shortly before he was arrested, not wanting the owl to go without care. When he returned to England earlier in the year he had, at first, decided against another owl. It wasn't until he moved out of the manor completely that he realized the need for a post owl. Thus, he had made the trip with his mother, and came away with his current pet.

"Oh, speak of the devil." Draco commented as Pollux swooped down onto his balcony ledge. "Your brother was just here." He waved the envelope and Pollux barked at him, then ruffled his feathers and nipped at something under his wing.

Draco waited until his owl finished his grooming, then tossed him a couple of owl nuts. Pollux barked again, flew onto Draco's shoulder and nipped affectionately at his hair before taking off again into the darkening night. "See you in the morning." Draco said quietly as he watched his owl grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

He returned inside and settled into the armchair by the French doors and cracked the Malfoy seal on the envelope. His mother had written him to inform him of her plans for the holiday. As Draco read on, his own plans began to change. He had been expecting to spend the holiday with her, but it appeared now she would be staying with the Parkinsons. Draco had no intention to spend his Christmas trying to avoid his ex-girlfriend.

He and Pansy had gone on only a handful of dates between Fourth and Fifth year. Apparently, she thought that just because they slept together a few times, that they were exclusive and intended to marry. Pansy had even gone so far as to petition her father to speak to Lucius Malfoy about a potential match. Draco had gotten wind of it, via his mother, and put his foot down. He liked Pansy enough, but he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with her. And besides that, they were both much too young to even consider a union. Narcissa had convinced Lucius to stop the match, and Draco promptly broke things off with Pansy at the start of their Sixth year. Luckily, his father had extinguished any attempt at a marriage contract before being locked in Azkaban the first time.

He had barely spoken to Pansy since. A few letters had been exchanged here and there throughout their Seventh year (even though Draco had been absent for most of it), and he had not seen her since the night of the battle.

 _I understand entirely if you do not wish to spend the holiday with the Parkinsons_ , Narcissa wrote at the end of her letter, _But I do hope that you do not spend it alone. I will see you for New Years', Draco. Your loving mother, Narcissa_.

Draco folded up the letter and dropped it into the basket next to the armchair where he kept all the missives from his mother. He then pulled open the drawer on the table beside him and took out a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill. He wrote a quick reply to his mother and folded up the letter, then sealed it with his family ring and left it out on the balcony propped against the bowl of owl nuts for Pollux to pick up in the morning and take to Wiltshire.

He cleaned up from dinner and tidied the kitchen before retreating to his bedroom for the evening. His mind was awash with all that he had pondered on tonight. He wasn't sure if he could quiet his thoughts enough for sleep and considered taking a small dose of Dreamless Sleep just so he could rest. It had been so long since he'd had a proper night's sleep.

~S~

Azkaban was always going to be Narcissa Malfoy's least favorite place in the wizarding world. She dreaded each visit. Not because she didn't wish to see her husband, but because of the despair of the place. The Dementors had been replaced with Aurors patrolling the narrow halls and checking cells, however, the lingering helplessness remained. It wasn't helped by the cramped quarters, dark stone walls, and the utter chill coming off the North Sea.

Narcissa shivered as she approached the black, triangular tower and pulled her travelling cloak tighter around her slim shoulders. Waves crashed like thunder at the base of the rocky island, blocking out all other noise. She reached the main entrance and pushed back her hood to reveal herself to the guard and she presented her wand to prove identity. He let her pass with a nod, and the usual terms that visitors relinquished their wands upon entering.

Narcissa voiced her agreement and waited for the door to be unbolted and then hurried inside to avoid the spray of the waves as they crashed once more on the rocks. Another guard met her just beyond the entry and she handed over her wand, then signed the register and listed Lucius's identification number. She was then escorted to a private room and took a seat on one side of the table, leaving the chair opposite vacant.

It was clear that the ministry had done their best to make these "meeting" rooms a little more inviting than the rest of the prison. The walls were a light gray, and a brazier in the corner provided sufficient warmth to combat the chilled wet air, coming in from the barred window behind her. Narcissa dropped her hood once more and fixed her hair so that it was not caught. She folded her hands in her lap and fixed her eyes on the door. It cracked open a moment later and she stood. Lucius was walked in by an Auror, supporting him. He looked the worst she had ever seen him. Narcissa gasped audibly at his appearance.

He was thinner, his hair hanging in dirty strings around his pallid, sunken face. At least one week of growth was sprinkled across his cheeks and jaw, dark blonde flecked with gray. His Azkaban robes hung very loose on his frame, as though he were being swallowed by them. The circles under his eyes had both deepened and darkened.

Narcissa hurried forward and took over from the Auror, who stood by the door instead, watching the pure-blood witch help her husband into the empty chair. Lucius Malfoy coughed despite his easy movements. It was deep and rough, making his entire frame shake with the force of it.

"When was the last time you were given a Pepper-Up potion?" Narcissa asked as she stood by him, holding his hand until the coughing subsided. Lucius waved her off when he had control over his breathing.

"This morning." He rasped, his eyes following his wife as she sat down across from him.

"How often do they administer?"

"When I need it." Lucius coughed again, holding up a hand to stop his wife from rising out of her chair.

Narcissa sank back down slowly, wincing as her husband seemed to vibrate with the force of his cough. She reached for his hands, appalled at their ice-cold temperature. "They should take better care." Narcissa hissed, her eyes flicking to the Auror still standing guard by the door.

"They do, Narcissa." Lucius assured her. "But there is only so much that can be done for someone so feeble…"

"You are not." Narcissa interrupted.

"I have been ill for a long time, my dear. It has sapped much of my former strength."

Narcissa let out a breath. Lucius had been ill many times since he was first put in Azkaban five years ago. In and out of St. Mungo's as a result. Narcissa did not know if he would make it through another bout of pneumonia. His breathing was already labored and sounded as though it caused him pain to draw air into his lungs.

Narcissa regarded him with concern. "Surely there must be something stronger than Pepper-Up potion?"

"Perhaps there is. But nothing I have ever heard of. The Healers at St. Mungo's have brewed several new strengths of the standard potion. It keeps the chill at bay, and a coughing solution helps to reduce my episodes."

"You need proper rest, and fresh air."

"Narcissa, you know as well as I do that that is not going to happen. And besides," Lucius paused as he began to cough again. "Besides, we are not here to discuss my failing health." He clasped his wife's hands. "How is Draco?"

Narcissa smiled serenely, thinking fondly of their son. "I have not seen him for several weeks. But I sent him a letter last week with my plans for Christmas. He responded back that he has his own plans, and that he is well. His job keeps him very busy, but I know he enjoys it."

"I would have never imagined Draco to enjoy such work." Lucius commented, clearing his throat halfway through. "But I am glad he has found something."

"It was a condition of his exile that should he wish to return he would have to do so with the intention of being a functional member of society. Draco never explained why he chose Egypt as the place to spend his one year. All he ever told me was that the Ministry offered to sponsor his training to become a curse-breaker." Narcissa had explained this all before, but she felt it good to remind her husband that Draco had had to make his own sacrifices to get where he was today.

"How is he, though, Narcissa? I can't imagine it's been easy."

Narcissa looked down the to the table, finally breaking eye contact. "I believe he is all right." She said quietly. In truth she did not really know. Draco didn't include very much information about his personal life. The most Narcissa knew for certain was that he worked long hours and sometimes didn't sleep well. The last time they had spoken about a girl was about a month ago when he had been over for dinner following one of her past visits to see Lucius. But did she share her suspicion from that night? "I think he may be seeing someone. But I can neither deny nor confirm that."

"Not that Parkinson chit?" Lucius sneered.

Narcissa hid her grimace. It was a rude comment, and not uncommon for her husband, but she hadn't been expecting it. "No. Not Miss Parkinson. They never saw each other again after Draco ended things between them."

"Do you suspect which family? Have you heard anyone mention Draco's name?"

"Would it matter which family, Lucius? Truly? So long as whomever he is with makes him happy and that _he_ is happy. Honestly, I have made my peace with whatever Draco decides to do with his life so long as he lives it."

Lucius began to cough again, but it subsided quickly. He took a minute to get his breath back after the episode passed, and reached for his wife's hands again. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Narcissa. We should be grateful that he is alive and has a life to live."

Narcissa reached across the table to touch her husband's hair. It was waxy from lack of washing, but she didn't care. "I wish you were home with me." She whispered.

Lucius raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. "As do I, my dear. But it can not be so. I have made _my_ peace that I will most likely die here."

Narcissa clasped her husband's hands in her own again. "Do not say things like that, my love. You may still receive parole."

"I highly doubt that, Cissy." Lucius stated and began to cough again. He tried to continue speaking, but the force of this attack wracked his body, and he let go of Narcissa's hands to turn sideways in his chair away from her.

The Auror by the door loosened his stance, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Lucius continued to cough, covering his mouth with one hand, and gripped he table with the other. Narcissa rose from her seat and walked around the table to help hold him upright as he began to sway in his chair. Lucius coughed so hard now, she was surprised it did not crack his ribs. Narcissa helped him out of the chair and to his knees in case he fell.

"Please, get someone to help, or bring a potion." She begged the Auror. The young man nodded, and opened the door. He shouted something down the hall and returned inside. Narcissa shook her head, apparently he was not going to leave them alone.

"Lucius, can you breathe?" She asked, kneeling beside him. Her dress be damned on this filthy floor. This was her husband.

Lucius shook his head as he continued to cough, already falling to one side. Narcissa eased him down until his head was in her lap. He was unconscious before the additional Aurors arrived to take him to St. Mungo's. Narcissa was grateful, that whomever was on duty had a modicum of compassion, and allowed her to accompany her husband to London.

Lucius was placed in the Azkaban wing, that was locked with several wards and two Aurors on constant duty outside. Narcissa had to wait in the tea room while he was examined and wasn't allowed inside the wing until her husband had been given a sleeping draught for the night. She wrote another letter to Draco while she waited to let him know what had happened, and where she was. She encouraged him to come in if he could, and see his father.

When she was at last allowed into the wing, Narcissa took up vigil beside her husband's bed. The Healer on duty informed her that he was relapsing, and would most likely be in the hospital for several weeks. She outlined what had been done this evening to make him comfortable, and the plan for his healing to start first thing in the morning. Narcissa barely heard a word of it. Her focus was entirely on the man in the bed beside her. She took Lucius's hand in hers and raised it to her cheek, hating how utterly cold it was, and fought back tears. She failed. For she knew that this illness was going to kill her husband if a strong enough potion or remedy could not be found to heal his body.

Five years in Azkaban had done more than sap his strength. His magical core was weakened from the constant pneumonia and lack of regular use. He didn't sleep well enough for it to be restorative. He most likely was not fed enough good food to give his body the nutrition it required for repair. Narcissa shuddered to think of her husband lying in his bed at night, shivering and shaking with cold from the chilled sea air, with nothing more than a ragged blanket to keep him warm.

Healer Montgomery placed a hand on Narcissa's shoulder on her way out. "We will do all that we can."

"I know. Thank you." Narcissa whispered, closing her eyes so that the Healer would not see the tears there.

She waited until she was left alone, and turned to kiss the palm of her husband's hand where she still held it against her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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Chapter 7 – November 19, 2003

Draco's eyes moved down the piece of parchment he held in front of him, taking in his mother's words as she described her recent visit to see his father. Pollux had delivered it this morning just as he was getting ready to leave. After a very hectic morning, he finally had a few minutes of quiet to read the letter. Lucius had relapsed, according to his mother, and was currently undergoing treatment and recovering in St. Mungo's for pneumonia. His breathing was not good, and he coughed so much that it was difficult for him to sleep and obtain rest. Pepper-Up and cough suppressant potions were no longer as effective and the Potioneers were working to develop and brew stronger, more long-lasting remedies.

Narcissa requested Draco's presence for him to visit his father, mostly because they had not seen each other since Lucius was incarcerated the second time. She also feared that this illness was going to claim her husband's life, and she wanted father and son to be at peace with each other.

Draco finished the letter and folded it up then tucked it back inside its envelope. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, removing his glasses. He let his head fall into his hands and scrubbed the heels of his palms over his face feeling a day's worth of growth on his jaw and chin. His father was severely ill, possibly dying. His mother wanted him to come to St. Mungo's to visit, or say goodbye. Draco wasn't entirely sure how to process the information his mother had imparted in her letter, or if he even accepted it.

He had no desire to see his father. But out of respect for Narcissa he would come by. Whether he and his father were able to come to any kind of understanding was dependent on how the visit progressed. His mother had not indicated a date or specific time, and with Christmas only a month away he figured sooner would be better than later. So tonight, he would be visiting his father. Bearing in mind that Lucius Malfoy was an incarcerated wizard, and being treated within the wing for Azkaban prisoners, Draco assumed he was going to have to pass through some sort of Auror security before being allowed to see his father.

With no way of knowing how long such a check would take, Draco decided to leave early and wrote a quick note to his team then sent it zooming out of his office to be delivered to Gringotts. Now that that was decided, Draco set himself to working on a pile of reports he had to complete editing by end of day tomorrow. That way he could come in early in the morning and make up for the time he was losing tonight.

The next few hours flew by and soon his stomach was growling in protest to the lack of sustenance. Draco set his quill down and stretched languidly. He still had a few hours to go before he would be leaving. A quick run to the Ministry café wouldn't take that much time. Draco grabbed his wand and locked his office before placing it in his wrist holster up his sleeve and left the Goblin Liaison Office.

When he arrived in the café, he noticed a familiar head of bushy brown hair sitting at their usual table. Hermione had obviously not bothered to do anything today to tame her curls. Draco felt himself smile at the sight of her. He grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of pumpkin juice then walked over and joined her.

"I was hoping you would come up for air at some point." Hermione teased as Draco sat down across from her. "I stopped by your office before, but you were eyeball deep in paperwork. I didn't want to disturb you."

"I would say that's fairly accurate." Draco replied, mouth full of ham and cheddar.

Hermione was taking small sips from a bowl of orange soup in front of her. Carrot and ginger from the smell of it Draco deduced.

"What are your plans for Christmas?" Hermione asked, blowing on a spoonful of soup before consuming it.

Draco chewed, swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "None, why?"

"Would you like to come to party with me?"

Draco stopped chewing the bite he had just taken and looked up at Hermione in surprise. He swallowed quickly and took a long sip of juice.

"What kind of party?"

"A Christmas party. At Harry and Ginny's house in Godric's Hollow." Hermione explained. She waited for Draco to wince or sneer. He did neither. Just blinked at her.

"Are you barking, Granger?" He asked, completely serious. "I'd be lucky to even approach the door and not lose a limb."

Hermione laughed, but quickly switched it to a cough. "I don't think you would need to worry, Draco. Harry knows you mean no harm.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass." Draco popped the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth and washed it down with a final swallow of juice.

"You have a few weeks to think about it." Hermione stated as he rose from the table. She blew on another spoonful of soup before sipping it.

Draco just nodded and wished her a good rest of her day then returned to his office.

~S~

Draco stepped out of the fireplace into the reception area of St. Mungo's. He brushed a bit of ash from the shoulder of his gray suit jacket and glanced toward the welcome desk for the hospital directory, hoping it would tell him the proper floor he needed to be on. But before his eyes could find it, his mother came rushing up to him and wrapped him in her arms.

"I'm so glad you're here, Draco." She hugged him tightly, having not seen her son in several weeks. "Your father is resting right now, but I know he will be glad to hear you stopped by when he awakens."

Narcissa wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders and guided him along the corridor. They went up two flights of stairs and down another corridor. Narcissa stopped at a door, and Draco noticed the placard to the side.

Be Advised: Aurors on Duty at ALL times

Draco paused at the sight of the two Aurors flanking either side of the ward entrance. He withdrew his wand from the holster on his right arm and immediately handed it over. The Auror on the right took it while the one on the left waved a Probity Probe over Draco front and back. The probe remained silent and he was allowed to pass. Narcissa was simply nodded at. As they entered the ward she showed Draco her wrist and the mark that had been stamped there. It was the St. Mungo's symbol of the crossed wand and bone imposed over the seal for the DMLE.

"Since I am frequently in and out of the ward it allows me to leave and re-enter at will without needing to be checked. It is spelled to detect any concealment magic. I only need hand over my wand each morning when I arrive." Narcissa explained as they approached a bed at the end of the ward. It was curtained off, but Narcisa drew them back and Draco stared down at the sleeping form of his father.

Lucius Malfoy's face was worn with dark bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep. His chin and jaw were overgrown with grey whiskers, and his overall complexion was sallow and feverish looking. Draco had never seen his father so diminished before. Not even after Voldemort had attacked him with the Cruciatus Curse until he was bleeding and crumped in a corner. Even then, his father had still managed an air of strength. But now…

Now he was withered away to almost nothing. Draco had to fight the pang of sympathy he felt while gazing at the man in front of him. The man who tried to force him to sentence his own schoolmates to death by confirming their identities. And only to save face with the Dark Lord. Draco may have been corrupted by his upbringing, but he wasn't entirely heartless. It had been sickening enough to torture Rowle. He just couldn't stomach the thought of having blood on his hands.

Thus, that night at Malfoy Manor, he chose the coward's way out, by neither confirming nor denying that it was, indeed, Harry Potter being presented to him. His father had tried to force a positive response out of Draco, whispering menacingly in his ear to just say yes. But Draco hadn't budged. And not for any good-natured reason. Because he, too, had been scared. And reluctant. But not because he feared for Potter's life. Draco was disenchanted with the life of a Death Eater. He was not willing to corrupt his own soul at the cost of dealing out death and torture. He didn't understand how his father could be ok with it.

Seeing the same man lying before him, so reduced in stature, brought on a fresh wave of sympathy. But it was quickly washed aside by anger. This was the man that had given his underage child to the Dark Lord to be marked and used as a puppet to dole out punishments. To commit murder, knowing Draco would fail in the attempt. He could imagine Voldemort taking pleasure in killing Draco had Snape not stepped in. What would Lucius Malfoy have felt if his only son had been killed before his eyes for his own failings? Would he have felt regret? Sadness? Pain?

Draco turned away from the bed, unable to look at his father any longer. He couldn't feel sorry for him. He couldn't feel the same fear that his father may due because he wasn't strong enough to fight the infection inside his lungs. He knew if his father's death came to pass that his mother would be devastated. But Draco just couldn't bring himself to feel anything but anger.

"This was a mistake." He whispered to his mother.

Narcissa turned to her son, reaching for his hand. "Please, don't go, Draco. Stay a while and see if he wakes up. I would hate for this misunderstanding to linger between you."

"Misunderstanding?" Draco hissed as he spun back around. "There is no misunderstanding." Draco pointed at his father, where he still lay silent, eyes closed, despite Draco's raised voice. " _He_ willingly handed me over into the service of a lunatic murderer!"

"Shh…dear, please sit down." Narcissa whispered. She stood and eased Draco down into the chair beside her own, then drew the curtains around the bed to conceal them from the rest of the ward. "Draco, you have to understand. You father had no choice. It was either obey the Dark Lord, or forfeit the lives of everyone in the family."

Draco wanted to shout in protest that he did not _need_ to understand anything. He sat there, fuming. His mother took his hand in both of hers, running her thumbs over the back of his palm. Draco closed his eyes and rubbed at them with his free hand. His mind was so chaotic. He didn't know what to think first, let alone say.

"Draco, I know you won't believe me, but Lucius _does_ love you. And everything he did was with you and I in mind. You have to try and see it from his perspective at the time."

"Why?" Draco snapped, looking up at his mother. "Why do I have to put myself in his shoes?"

"What would you have done if it was your wife and child on the line?" Narcissa probed.

"Considering that I don't have either, and have never wanted them, I really don't know, Mother. It is an invalid question." Draco pulled his hand back.

Narcissa huffed quietly in frustration. This conversation was not going at all the way she desired. However, she knew if she persisted in her current line of question with Draco, he would only grow more irritated and be more likely to leave. So Narcissa changed the topic.

"What are your plans for plan for Christmas, dear?"

Draco shrugged, looking at the floor. "Nothing."

"You don't intend on spending the holiday alone do you?"

Draco lifted his gaze. "Most likely, why?"

"I just don't think you should." Narcissa started to reach for her son's hand again, but pulled back as Draco flinched. She blinked back tears and switched her gaze to her slumbering husband.

"How's work?" She asked next, switching topics once more.

"Busy." Draco answered noncommittally.

"You're not burying yourself, are you?"

"No, Mother. I work a normal shift and go home at night. Sometimes I have to work late depending on the project or amount of paperwork on my desk. But I am taking care of myself and surviving." Draco recited, deadpan.

Narcissa frowned. "That doesn't sound like you are enjoying the work. I thought you loved being a curse-breaker."

Draco covered his face with both hands and scrubbed. "I do. But the work that I am involved in now is different as Head curse-breaker. I'm responsible for six other curse-breakers as well as two contacts at Gringotts. It's not a lot for a department. But as someone with minimal leadership experience, it can be overwhelming."

"Draco, you are a fine leader. You have my utmost confidence, as always." Narcissa reached out and brushed some hair off her son's forehead. "You look exhausted."

"It's been a hectic end to the year." Draco muttered.

"Perhaps you should go home and rest. Your father isn't going anywhere, and you can come back whenever you like. But I will confirm that of course."

Draco nodded. He was starting to feel very worn down. His brain conjured the sensation of laying his head down on one of his soft pillows as he closed his eyes in restful relief. Draco blinked owlishly at his mother. Narcissa ushered him up and took his arm, walking her son from the ward. Once outside his wand was returned to him, and Draco slid it back into its holster on his right arm. Narcissa walked him downstairs to the public Floo in the reception area. She straightened the lapels on his suit jacket and tried to smooth down some of the fly-aways in his hair.

Draco gently pushed her hands off, but then leaned in and kissed his mother on her cheek and wished her a good night. He smiled ruefully from the Floo before dropping his pinch of powder and was swept away in a rush of emerald flames.

~S~

Christmas crept up very quickly despite that it was anticipated. The next five weeks flew by and Hermione soon found herself packing up for the long weekend. She locked her filing cabinet and turned around to survey the rest of her office. Everything was tidied away, her desk neat. The last thing she needed to do was get ready for Harry and Ginny's party. Employees were released early on Christmas Eve, and she had offered to come by early to help Ginny prepare and set up, knowing Harry would be staying until his shift normally ended so he wouldn't come in to a mountain of work after the holiday.

Hermione stood still and raised her wand over her head, then gave it a swirl. Her clothes began to shift and change from the blouse and slacks she had picked out this morning, into a burgundy sheath dress that stopped at her knees. The spell continued down, changing her shoes from grey suede to black. Her hair swirled and pulled itself into a knot at the back of her head. Hermione took out a small compact from her purse and checked her appearance. With a flick of her wand, a minimal amount of makeup appeared across her features. Eyes slightly smoky, lips just a touch dark. Overall, an elegant evening look.

Satisfied, Hermione put her compact away and gathered her coat over her arm. As she exited her office, several coworkers called out as they passed, wishing her a Happy Christmas. Hermione returned the greeting and joined the throng exiting the department. She passed the Goblin Liaison office and stuck her head in. Draco's office door was cracked and she could see the light still on.

"Going over to Potter's tonight, Hermione?" Donald Stevens from the Beast Division asked as he walked passed her. He paused to wait for Hermione's answer. His wife worked in the DMLE in the Auror office as a point of contact when Aurors checked in from the field. She had worked closely with Harry on several occasions.

"I am. I'm actually going over early to help Ginny set up."

"All right, I'll see you in a little bit." Donald waved and kept walking out toward the lifts.

Hermione headed over to Draco's door and peeked in. He was, as she expected, bent over a pile of parchment scribbling away with a quill. He held his forehead in his hand, blocking his face from her view. Hermione knocked on the door and Draco looked up. He had his black-framed spectacles on again, but quickly pulled them off.

"Hermione." He said her name in surprise. "Evening. Heading out?"

"To Harry and Ginny's yes. I wanted to come by and ask one more time if you would like to come."

Draco considered her for a moment. She was wearing a well-fitted dress and some amazing shoes that made her legs appear longer than they were. But she wasn't here to show off her outfit. He glanced at the work on his desk and then back to Hermione.

"Do you really think it's a good idea, Granger? Inviting me to Potter's?"

"It would be awkward, I don't disagree with you. But the alternative is spending the holiday alone."

"You say that like it's bad thing. Frankly, I'm used to being alone at Christmas." Draco admitted darkly, eyes once more returning to his report.

"Don't you think it's time to change that?" Hermione inquired back, staring intently at him.

"Not really." Draco finished his last sentence and looked up again. "Why the sudden interest in my social life anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think you should be alone."

"I appreciate the concern, Granger, but I can assure I am perfectly content to be on my own this time of the year."

Hermione frowned. She couldn't tell if he was shutting her down on purpose, or saying these things for the benefit of others that may hear the conversation as they passed by his office.

Hermione shrugged. "It's up to you, Draco. I won't push. But if you decide to stop by they live in Godric's Hollow. Have a Happy Christmas." She waved and left him to his work.

Draco watched her leave then set down his quill once his office doorway was empty. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He understood where Granger was coming from. He would have made the same offer if he found out she was planning to spend the holiday alone.

Or would he?

Hermione Granger was a bleeding heart who felt obligated to help everyone, magical or muggle, wizard or creature. She had the personality of a Gryffindor he knew, considering the brashness he had both witnessed and been subjected to. But her soul was that of a Hufflepuff. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Personally he thought it left one very vulnerable, wearing his or her heart on their sleeve, but that was the individual's choice.

Draco sat back up in his chair and began to shuffle his papers together. His mind turned over Hermione's request several times as he moved on autopilot, jotting down a few more sentences on his report before signing it and sending it off with a flick of his wand. Draco set his elbows on his desk, folding his hands together. His eyes focused on a single spot in the wood grain as he thought over the idea of Christmas in the company of others. But it wouldn't be just "others". He was being invited to spend time with people who had seen him as an enemy. And probably still did.

So, he was left with two options.

Go home alone. Again.

Or tempt fate and hope to Merlin that he could walk in and walk out with all of his limbs still intact.

Neither of those truly appealed to him in that moment. But Draco had made a promise to himself that he was not going to let his past dictate his future, and if the opportunity for change, especially something that could benefit him, presented itself he would take it. No questions asked. Just leap.

He was already doing that with Granger. He both admired and was slightly intimidated by her. There were times he still hesitated around her, not keen on feeling her fist in his face again.

Draco let out a sigh, followed by a groan, and forced himself out of his desk chair. He pulled on his winter coat over his suit jacket and stashed his wand in an inside pocket before locking up his office for the long weekend, then headed out.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 8 – December 24, 2003

"I really appreciate you coming over to help." Ginny said over her shoulder as she levitated a length of garland from the couch to the fireplace and draed it over the mantle.

Hermione swished her wand, and a box of Christmas baubles popped open and floated to the window where they hung across the curtain rod. "It's no trouble." She responded as she used her wand to adjust the spacing between each bauble so that they were even. "What next?"

"Food and drinks." Ginny grinned.

They spent the next hour in the kitchen giggling up a storm as they arranged platters of snacks and, in Hermione's case, sipped on a glass of wine. James, now almost four months old, sat up in his highchair clapping and blowing raspberries. Ginny had to frequently put down what she was working on to wipe dribble off his chin. He was delighted with watching food zoom around the kitchen and tried to grab at bits of it. Hermione offered her godson a couple of biscuits, which he happily started gumming and turning into a sodden mess.

"Is he going to be staying up for the festivities?" Hermione asked as she placed a preservation charm over the last platter she had just completed.

"I was planning to let him stay up. Of course, if he falls asleep or gets cranky, then it's off to bed." Ginny laughed at her son and wiped his mouth for the hundredth time.

"He's so precious, Gin. Truly a replica of you and Harry both."

Ginny beamed and stroked her son's dark brown hair. "We did do well, didn't we?"

"Indeed." Hermione agreed.

James gurgled happily and began to blow bubbles. "Oh, there he goes again!" Ginny exclaimed, and began to laugh, which caused James to blow more bubbles.

"How long has this been going on?" Hermione asked, grabbing a clean cloth to wipe the bit of drool that had started to drip down James's chin.

"A few weeks." It's not his first expression of magic." Ginny explained, popping the bubbles as they floated toward her, "But it's definitely the most entertaining yet."

"I'll say." Hermione grinned as she popped a bubble. "Better than when he made the utensils zoom around the last time I was over for dinner."

Both girls began to laugh again, and James erupted into a fit of giggles. A particularly large bubble formed in his mouth and popped out. Ginny and Hermione watched it float out of the kitchen. The moment it was out of sight, Harry's voice sounded from the sitting room.

"He's at it again, is he?" Harry asked after his son as he walked into the kitchen balancing the bubble on the tip of his wand. He presented it to James, who reached out with a tiny fist and popped it. Harry bent down and kissed the top of his son's head, and then kissed Hermione on the cheek, and planted a full kiss on wife's lips.

"Sorry I'm late. I wasn't expecting so much paperwork."

Hermione glanced at her watch and noticed it was nearly time for the party to start. Ginny had already changed, so she ushered Harry upstairs to do the same. Guests began to arrive via Floo and soon the sitting room was full of happy, chattering voices. Hermione levitated the trays of snacks out as Ginny got James settled in his swing.

She glanced around as she set up the food, recognizing several faces, including Neville Longbottom and his fiancé Hannah Abbott. Luna was also there, dressed in a very bright pink ensemble, and currently cooing over baby James with Ginny. James seemed particularly fascinated in the Ravenclaw's earrings, which, Hermione noticed, were the radish-like adornments Luna had worn so frequently in school. Dean and Seamus, her fellow Gryffindors, were also there, along with their significant others.

There were also several people from the Auror office, and Hermione waved to her coworker from her own department and took a couple minutes to catch up with him and his wife. Ron, however, was not there. Harry and Ginny had invited him, and part of Hermione had been anxious that Ron would show up, with Lavender on his arm. But guests had been arriving for about an hour now, and Ron had yet to step through the fireplace.

Hermione refilled her wine glass and continued to walk around and mingle. She caught up with Neville and Hannah after departing from her coworker. The former had just proposed to Hannah, and Hermione was curious to know if they had set a date yet. Hannah was lovely, a true Hufflepuff, with a bright personality and ready smile. She kept one arm around Neville's waist throughout their entire conversation, and her head against his shoulder.

They were blissfully happy, and Hermione was thrilled for them. She knew Neville had harbored a crush on Luna for some time, but he really was not the type to want to wander around the globe in search of creatures that (mostly likely) did not exist. So, she was more than chuffed to see Neville so in love with someone whose life goals were closer to his own. He deserved the happiness that Hannah so obviously brought him.

As the evening progressed, James began to squirm in his swing and soon his eyelids were drooping closed. Hermione offered to take him upstairs so Harry and Ginny could continue to enjoy the party. Ginny met her at the bottom of the stairs, wine glass in hand, as she returned from tucking James in to his crib.

"Thank you so much for your help tonight. You know you didn't have to do any of it."

Hermione beamed and took the drink. "I know. But I hardly get to spend time with both of you together, and James. Any extra time I can squeeze out I will, regardless of the situation or what I may have to do while we're together."

Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione and hugged her. "I know things have been tough. And I know my brother has been the biggest prat. But I'm glad you're here tonight."

Hermione hugged Ginny back. Both girls pulled away and looked at each other as their eyes began to tear. They started to laugh at the same time, until a knock sounded on the front door, and they both fell silent. Hermione pushed Ginny back toward the party and crossed the entryway to open the door.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, not sure of the individual she was seeing was actually there in front of her.

"Wow, I'm shocked." Hermione smiled.

"I didn't know that was possible." Draco said back, shifting on his feet.

Hermione took a moment to appreciate that he had stuck a white and red carnation in the top button hole of his suit jacket and was holding a bottle of wine. "So, you changed your mind?" She asked.

Draco smiled sheepishly and shifted again.

"Yes. I decided maybe…maybe spending the holiday with someone other than myself wouldn't be such a bad idea."

Hermione grinned broadly. Then felt the heat in her cheeks, and toned it down. She cleared her throat and stepped aside to let Draco in. He entered the house cautiously, but once the door was closed behind him, and Hermione had taken his coat to hang it up, he felt a little calmer. There were about ten other guests in the sitting room, but only the Gryffindors he knew stopped whatever conversations they were having to stare at him as he walked in next to Hermione.

Ginny approached first and greeted Draco with a brief hug, which he returned awkwardly with one arm, and handed her the bottle of wine he had brought over. It was a bottle from his father's personal collection, which his mother had recommended.

"Ooh," Ginny eyed the label on the bottle excitedly. "I'm opening this one right now. Thank you, and thank you for coming." She leaned up and hugged Draco again quickly then disappeared into the kitchen to open the wine.

Harry came over next and shook Draco's hand and thanked him as well for coming. "I also brought a small gift for your son. It's in my coat."

"Oh, wow. You didn't have to do that. But thank you, Draco. I'll...um…you can put it under the tree for him later before you leave."

Draco nodded. His hand fidgeted with the left sleeve of his suit jacket and pulled it down to his wrist. Hermione patted his back in support, and Draco stopped twitching. They walked further into the room and he noticed that the eyes of everyone he knew from school followed him. Hermione steered Draco over to a few coworkers form the Ministry they both knew in passing and flawlessly integrated him into the conversation.

Ginny reappeared with the bottle of Superior Red and offered Draco a glass first and then began to walk around offering to refill glasses for everyone.

"Let me try that." Hermione reached for his glass and took a small sip. "That's delicious."

"I'll be sure to let my mother know. It's produced by the Malfoy Apothecary, and she's proud of the business and the positive turn it has taken in the last few years."

Colderson, an Auror from Harry's team looked surprised. "Your family both owns and runs the Malfoy Apothecary? I thought they lost control of all financial interests after the war."

"Well, we did." Draco confirmed, "Just not the Apothecary. It _was_ initially under the control of the Ministry during the first year after the war, and then my mother petitioned for control of the business. I was just as surprised as she was that the Ministry granted it." Draco sipped his wine and Hermione watched him visibly relax a bit. "She's very passionate about it."

"I'll have to stop by the next time I'm in Diagon Alley." Colderson's wife, Emma, stated as she sipped her wine as well. "This is very excellent."

"It's aged for a thousand years." Draco explained, and held his glass up to the light. "Gives the wine a rich, full body. Makes it sit on the palette almost like velvet. My father horded the oldest bottles. One of which we're all enjoying this evening."

"What other products does the Malfoy Apothecary produce?" Colderson asked.

Draco went off into a full explanation of the range of items currently under fabrication, and Hermione felt it safe to duck out of the conversation for a few minutes.

Ginny arched her eyebrow at Hermione as the brunette walked over after leaving Draco alone with the couple they had been conversing with for several minutes. Ginny was shocked that the Slytherin had been able to integrate himself so easily after the first few awkward minutes. And now seemed to be engaged in an enthralling conversation. He was using his free hand to gesture and make example of whatever it was he was discussing with Colderson and his wife.

"He seems to have fit himself in quite nicely." Ginny observed.

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Draco. "Yes. Thank you for being so welcoming. I know I didn't say I invited him. I honestly didn't think he would show up."

"I'm glad you did. I mean, you've only been talking about him for months. What I want to know is when are you going on your first date?" Ginny flashed her best friend a teasing smile.

" _What_? Ginevra Weasley Potter!"

Harry turned from his conversation with Dean and Seamus about the current Quidditch season when he heard his wife's name. But when he saw said wife and Hermione laughing together, he shrugged it off and returned to the topic of discussion at hand with his former dorm mates.

Across the room, Draco had also looked up at Hermione's outcry. He watched as the two walked toward him, and turned back around so it wouldn't seem like he was eavesdropping on their conversation. Colderson was still going on about the last product Draco had been describing, something similar to the self-brewing teapot he had purchased for himself except that the Malfoy Apothecary was attempting to make improvements on the design. Ginny and Hermione passed behind him and he caught the last few sentences of their hushed conversation.

"I doubt Draco would ever want to go out on a date with me, Ginny. I mean, he has so many other…options."

Draco's eyebrows rose up.

"You keep telling yourself that you're not worth it, Hermione. And while you're doing that, ask him out anyway. I'll bet you that you'll be surprised by his response. I'm going to go check on James. If Harry asks, I'll be right back down."

Hermione appeared on his left side a moment later. "Sorry, I needed to ask Ginny something. Did I miss anything interesting?"

"Actually, we were just talking about this teapot." Colderson stated, taking the reins of the conversation back.

Hermione smiled encouragingly up at Draco, and he tried to return it. But his mind had gotten lost somewhere in the minute between Hermione discussing asking _him_ on a date and where she was now. His eyes widened when he felt her hand on his back, patting his shoulder in a comforting way. Then it was gone.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversation with a dozen different people. Some Draco knew from school (Luna in particular had a lot to say about her most recent expedition to Germany in search of the ever-elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack). Hermione walked around with him, initiating most of the conversations. It took Draco a few minutes at times to get into the flow whatever they were talking about next, but once he did he found that he was more comfortable than he anticipated he would be.

What shocked him was the lack of malice or exclusion from anyone in attendance. Even the other Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus were more than willing to go into detail about the Quidditch season and their respective teams in the League. They even invited Draco to the next local game if he could make it. The next match was set for just after the New Year between Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados. Surprisingly enough, even Potter encouraged Draco to come along.

"Ok, I'll think about it. I have a group of curse-breakers leaving that week for South America and I need to make sure everything is in place for the expedition and that the Lead is up to date on the geography of the area…"

"So, you'll come to the match, then?" Harry asked, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder, cutting off his string of excuses.

It was true that he had a team leaving that week, but they were more than prepared. Draco had considered going with them for the first couple of days. But several family heirlooms had been brought in that were found in the Lestranges' vaults that needed curses removed before they could be handled by the goblins.

Rabastan, the youngest and last living Lestrange, had recently passed away in Azkaban, and thus the property inside the vaults was forfeited to Gringotts with no other living relative alive to claim it. The gold and artifacts had sat in the various family vaults for thirty-one days, and after no one came forward to claim it, the goblins went in and began to confiscate. It was now Draco's job to assess the dark objects that had been brought to him and remove the curses, if he could, so the items could be handled and placed safely within the Gringotts treasure vault.

"Sure. I'll be there." Draco agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"Excellent." Harry grinned.

Draco couldn't say he shared Potter's enthusiasm. So, he sipped his wine and stared at the floor. He felt Hermione's eyes on him as he fixated on the pale shade of cream that either Ginny or Harry had picked out. _What an awful choice for a sitting room, especially with a baby around. Stains so easily._ Draco thought.

"What are you doing for Christmas tomorrow, Draco?"

"What?" Draco looked back up when he heard his name. Ginny was addressing him this time. "Oh, tomorrow. I may go see my mother. Depends if she is going to be around. I know she had her own plans for the holiday."

"How is Narcissa?" Hermione asked.

"She's doing well." Draco answered honestly. He didn't go into detail about his father's current condition. "Keeping busy with managing the Apothecary and her own hobbies. We have dinner together a few times a month."

"I think it's great that you still make time for her. I can only imagine how lonely she must feel sometimes." Hermione sounded sincere. And then Draco remembered that her parents were no longer in England. She had explained to him months ago when they first began having lunch together how she had modified her parents' memories of her and sent them to Australia.

"Yes. I am grateful that she is still with me. I would not have made it this far without her support."

"How's…"Harry began to ask, but Hermione shot him a look. He changed his question mid thought. "How's everything else going for you?"

"You mean my personal life, Potter?" Draco asked, a snarky edge to his tone.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"All right, I choose not to."

"That was a waste of a question, Harry." Seamus laughed, and the rest of the group followed suite. Except Draco. He chuckled quietly under his breath, forcing a small smile.

Hermione yawned beside him and covered her mouth as a blush crept into her cheeks. "Excuse me. I'm sorry. But I think that means I need to call it a night."

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. "It is late."

Several other party guests had already left the for the evening, Draco noticed as he looked around. "I'll walk you out." Draco offered. He finished his wine and looked around, but then Ginny took his glass with a smile. "Thank you,"

"No worries. Are you using the Floo?" She asked looking between Draco and Hermione.

"No, I'll just disapparate." Hermione stated.

She and Draco made their farewells, then donned their coats and headed out together. "So where do you live, anyway, Draco?" Hermione asked as they walked down the path to the front gate together.

"A few streets off from the Leaky Cauldron. Nice building. Run by this lady with a bunch of kneazles."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Draco looked back at her to find she was staring at him. "What?" And then he recalled. She had Flooed one evening to the same street.

"I think we're neighbors." Hermione said as she caught back up to him.

"Well, I don't know if neighbor is the right term if I live on the floor above you."

"So, we _are_ neighbors!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I figured we might be after that night we walked out together. You Flooed to the same location that I come in from."

Hermione laughed as they reached the gate. "This is just too funny." Draco held the gate open for her and they walked out onto the main road. "I suppose we could Side-Along Apparate."

"If that's what you want to do?" Draco offered.

Hermione held out her hand. "It only makes sense since we're going to the same place." She smiled at him.

Draco let out a breath, watching as it formed a cloud in the cold air around them. Then reached for Hermione's hand.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 9 - December 26, 2003

"You seemed to have had a really good time the other night." Hermione said across the table as she picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth.

Draco attempted to do the same with his sushi in front of him, but was struggling with the chopsticks. Over the past several months as they met more and more often for lunch

they began to share their meals.

Both, in turn, expanded their food horizons. But even though this was the sixth (or was it the seventh?) time Draco had had sushi, he still couldn't quite get the handle of the two, short pieces of wood that he was supposed to pick up his rolled fish with and feed himself. After he dropped his sushi for the third time, (swearing colorfully), Hermione finally took pity on him and reached across the table to assist.

She held the first chopstick in Draco's right hand like he held a quill, then placed the second in the same hand. She helped him grab the sushi and held onto his hand as he raised the food to his mouth. Draco popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly. Hermione sat back down and watched him pick up a second piece.

"See, you got it."

"Thanks." Draco smiled shyly at her, dipped the second piece into his soy sauce and bit it in half.

When he first began trying more sushi he had stuck with the cooked shrimp, but then tried tuna and salmon after that. Right now, his favorite was spicy tuna. But he was learning that that preference was subject to change as Hermione introduced him to more colorful options.

In return, he had exposed her to some of his own exotic partialities. She particularly enjoyed the rabbit stew and couscous he had shared with her previously, and a flatbread he brought in one day, spread with fresh fruit and goat cheese. Hermione had especially loved the cheese. He could still remember her expression as she ate the naan and cheese for the first time. Her eyelids fell closed and she moaned softly. Draco had been hard pressed to will his blood _not_ to go south at the sound. Instead, he tried to recall a Mandrake's scream to drown out Hermione's moan.

"What are your plans for New Year's?" Hermione asked as they walked back to the lifts together after lunch.

"None. I know my mother is going to a party. She invited me to come along, but I don't think I will." Draco spoke mostly to the floor, hands in his pockets.

"So, you were going to spend the holiday alone, were you?" Hermione tried to give Draco a teasing smile, but he wasn't looking at her.

Draco walked beside in her silence, lost in thought. His mind was on his father. He was glad that his mother was seeking company among friends. There really was not much that could be done for his father right now. His body needed time to rest and regain strength if he was going to fight off the infection in his lungs. Hermione did not know about Lucius, and right now, Draco did not feel like sharing. He did not even know himself how he truly felt about his father's current condition.

Her last comment about spending the upcoming holiday alone was lost on him. Until they reached his office. Draco didn't realize they had arrived until he noticed Hermione had stopped walking, and then felt the touch of her hand on his arm.

"Draco, are you ok?" Hermione asked, trying to meet his eyes.

Draco looked up. They were standing outside his office. Other Ministry officials who worked in the Goblin Liaison office passed by, greeting them both. Draco nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

Hermione waited until no one else was around, and asked Draco again if he was all right.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry. Just got lost in thought." He smiled tightly at the muggle-born witch, hoping it was convincing enough.

Hermione seemed placated, for now, and removed her hand from his arm. "So, what are your plans?" She asked again.

"Oh, for New Year's?" Draco replied. "None, right now."

'What about the Ministry ball?" Hermione pressed.

Draco winced, and Hermione laughed quietly. "Not your thing?" She asked.

Draco shook his head. "Not really."

"You went to the Yule Ball in Fourth year." Hermione pointed out. "And I seem to remember you were among the last students to leave."

Draco blushed lightly. He had had a good time that night, despite himself and not really wanting to go in the first place. But damn Merlin if he was going to pass up the opportunity to humiliate Potter in some way or another (his Fourth-year-self had been ridiculously jealous and childish). He never actually followed through on his one motive for attending, because he had, surprisingly, been enjoying the enjoy frivolity of the evening (even though Pansy had been both clingy and handsy).

"Well, I didn't want to be the only Fourth year not there." Draco tried to laugh off the excuse. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't buy it.

She narrowed her warm, brown eyes at him and shook her head. "Nice try, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "It was worth a shot. So…are you trying to ask me to the ball, Granger?"

Now, Hermione blushed. She hid her face for a moment while the heat in her cheeks receded, then looked Draco square in his eyes. "Yes."

Draco blinked. He hadn't been expecting her to own up to it. "As your date?" He hedged, not entirely sure what he wanted the answer to be.

"As my friend." Hermione clarified. She felt her brows draw together at Draco's question, but wiped the bewilderment from her face before he could notice.

 _Friend_ , Draco thought. That wasn't so bad. And if the night turned boring he could always drink on the Ministry's dime to distract himself.

"Yes. Ok, I'll go with you." Draco finally answered. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Hermione, and couldn't help smiling in return. It warmed his heart to see her so pleased, and that he was the one responsible for her pleasure.

 _You'd like to be responsible for her pleasure in other ways._ Draco's mind whispered to him, and he hissed at it to hush up just as the memory of Hermione's moan from tasting goat cheese for the first time filled his ears. If she made that sound over food, he could only imagine her auditory response to bodily stimuli.

"Ok. Great. We'll discuss details before Friday." Hermione touched his shoulder, smiled brightly again, and moved past him back out into the main department toward her office.

Draco watched her go, her hair swishing lightly as she walked. She had removed her Ministry robes to go to lunch, and her hips swayed invitingly. She had a new spring in her step.

And he had put it there.

Draco smirked to himself as he unlocked his office and stepped inside. He left the door half open for any inter-office memos that may zoom in, and settled himself in to a full afternoon of work. He had team reviews to complete and a pile of research to sort through for the next expedition. Italy this time. And he would be accompanying them for the first few days to make sure everyone was settled, and would check in after that twice a week.

It was a two-month expedition to acquire artifacts from a mountain cave that had been discovered in the Alps along the northern border. Draco wished he could stay with the team full time, only to get out of England for a couple of months, but his father's current condition, and a new curse-breaker whom he was training, would be keeping in England.

He had alerted the Ministry to his father's illness and that he may need to take short notice leave, but that he would try to alert the proper officials as early as he could. He was surprised by how compliant the higher-ups had been. Draco assumed it would have come down to him requesting a length of time off and needing to explain ine detail about his father.

But it had been unnecessary. He was asked only to alert the department head so he could relay the message to Gringotts if Draco could not. But he would be responsible to update his team. Since they were in constant communication, this would not be a problem for him.

But all this was only going to be necessary should Draco need an unexpected leave of absence. He was hoping for the best

But planning for the worst.

~S~

The rest of the afternoon passed as Draco expected. He received twelve inter-office memos. Some requesting his presence for meetings, others asking for documents that had been submitted two weeks prior (and apparently were sent to the wrong official for approval and wound up buried), or inquiring about his latest project. This last came from Gringotts checking on the status of a pile of coins Draco had been sent so he could remove the Gemino curse that had been placed on them. It was a simple enough spell to break, he just had not gotten around to it yet. His deadline to have the coins returned wasn't until after the New Year, so he wasn't in a rush to worry about the task. He had other pressing paperwork to attend to that needed to be completed first.

However, come the end of the day, he was exhausted and mentally drained, and just wanted to leave. As he was approaching the bank of lifts outside the department, he heard the gate closing and rushed around the corner.

"Hold the lift!" Draco called as he jogged forward.

The grill slid back and Hermione stood holding it open. "Thanks, Granger." Draco breathed as he entered the lift.

"No problem. Rough end to the day?" Hermione asked as she slid the grill back and selected the Atrium on the floor guide.

"You could say that." Draco replied. "Trying to get as much work done as possible for the end of the year."

"Same." Hermione agreed. She felt as harassed as Draco looked. "Every time I tried to pick up my goblin case another memo flew in asking for me to come to another briefing."

Draco nodded as he shrugged into his suit jacket and buttoned it closed. "I had that, too."

"I was thinking of stopping for a drink before heading home. Would you like to join me?"

Draco eyed Hermione for a moment. She had said earlier this afternoon that she was asking him to the ball with her as her friend. Was she also asking him now out to a drink as a friend?

"Where? Draco asked as he adjusted the collar of his shirt and straightened his tie.

"This little pub by our building, I'm sure you've walked by it a hundred times. The Barking Owl?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow. _Who in their right mind would name their pub The Barking Owl?_

"I didn't know owls barked." Draco joked back.

"Some do, yes. Harry's owl, Hedwig, would bark often. Especially when she was frustrated."

Draco's other eyebrow quirked. _Well, don't I look like a fool?_

He considered the offer. He was knackered beyond belief and honestly just wanted to return to his flat, reheat some leftover soup for supper and finish off the open bottle of wine in his fridge.

But then he looked over at Granger. She had removed her Ministry robes at the end of the day and was once more in the knee-length dress and stockings (black on black with burgundy, suede heels). Draco noticed that the deep wine color seemed to be a signature for the muggle-born. She frequently wore some article of clothing that shade of red. She was alluring, with her curly mass of hair pulled into a knot behind her left ear. A few stray curls escaped to frame her face, and Draco found himself wanting to twist one around his finger to see if it was as soft as it looked.

His hand twitched at his side as he watched Hermione tuck one stray curl behind her ear. She gave him a questioning look, raising both eyebrows in inquiry before she spoke. "Would you like to join me?"

Draco blinked once…twice. "Sure, that sounds lovely."

Hermione beamed at him. They arrived at the Atrium a moment later and the grill slid open so they could exit the lift. Draco fell into step next to Hermione, matching her pace. Mostly so he didn't look too eager by pulling ahead, but also because it was polite. They took separate fireplaces to the same apparition point and then walked the few blocks to the street where they both lived. Draco found the sign for the pub and walked ahead of Hermione a few steps now so he could hold the door for her. She gave him another smile and thanked him.

Draco followed her inside, letting the heavy wood door shut behind him. The outside sounds of London were replaced with the cozier audio of the pub. Low voices and soft music coupled with the sound of pint glasses being set down and the interspersed clink of utensils.

Looking around, Draco noticed that the interior décor was woodland based. There were several pieces on the walls depicting forest wildlife (mostly owls). Draco could name most of the breeds he saw, and pointed a few out to Hermione. She gave him a knowing smirk and directed him to the bar. They sat on neighboring stools and Hermione ordered two pints for them.

"Are you hungry?" She asked Draco as their pints arrived.

"I'm a little peckish." Draco admitted as he sipped his drink.

Hermione requested a menu as well, which she shared with Draco. "Mmm…I haven't had a good fish and chips in a long time." Hermione sighed as she moved the tip of her finger down the list.

"That does sound better than soup." Draco muttered.

"Was that going to be dinner tonight?"

Draco nodded. "And some wine. But this is better." He flashed a small smile at Hermione.

She grinned back and picked up her glass. "To good times." She proposed. Draco tapped his glass against hers and they both sipped, eyeing each other. "So, fish and chips?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Two, please." Hermione requested to the barman, and handed back the menu. "Thank you for joining me. I usually do this alone."

"How often?" Draco asked, taking another sip of his pint.

"A few times a month. Ginny will meet me when she can. Most of the time I sit in the corner and write."

Draco's ears perked a little. "Do you journal?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Mostly about work. It helps me get ideas out of my head. Especially if I have been working on a particularly difficult case and I'm trying to determine every avenue that I can use to reach a solution."

"You said before that you were still working on that goblin case. How is it going?"

Hermione let out a deep sigh. "It's at a standstill right now until after the holidays. I've been researching for weeks on the latest political development and I have three other team members on this case now because it's become such a…What's that word? Ginny used it to describe the way the Auror office is set up…A clusterfuck."

Draco choked on his beer and coughed. Hermione laughed at the outburst, and reached over to rub his back. He recovered after a minute and sipped his drink gingerly.

"Sorry. I've just…never heard you speak like that before. I don't mind. It was…comical."

Hermione laughed again. "I'll swear more often."

"Just wait until I'm not drinking next time." Draco requested.

Their food arrived a minute later and they began to eat. The conversation turned toward Draco's work and Hermione asked him why he chose to become a curse-breaker.

"When I chose exile the Ministry let me choose where I wanted to go. As I was getting ready to leave, my mother gave me a necklace. It's a pendant with Egyptian runes carved into it. And as far back as I can remember, she always wore it. She said it would protect me." Draco paused to nibble a chip and rip one of his cod fillets to pieces. "I decided to go to Egypt so I could study the runes on the necklace and find out what they mean. When I told the Minister that I chose Egypt, he asked if I would consider becoming a curse-breaker. The Ministry would sponsor me, and I could have my wand back to train. So…I agreed."

"Sounds like you were hesitant to do it." Hermione observed, picking up on the pause.

"I was. It would have been so much easier to just stay in exile the rest of my life. But I couldn't leave my mother here alone."

Hermione smiled indulgently. But she didn't want Draco to think she was teasing him, so she ate another piece of fish and waited for him to continue.

"I think…I think I underestimated her, though." Draco admitted, continuing. "Because after everything that she's been through, everything she is _still_ going through, she's still strong. She's still fighting. And not just for her own sanity. She's fighting for my father, and for me. And I think that's why I felt it was ok to finally move out of the manor. I don't like that she's alone a lot of the time…Well, she not. When she's not visiting with friends, she's at St. Mungo's with Father. But she's surviving." Draco concluded. He absentmindedly dunked a piece of fried fish into his tartar sauce and popped it into his mouth.

Hermione had stopped eating so she could give Draco her full attention. He looked lost in thought, eyes gazing at the back of the bar without seeing it. She opened her mouth to ask about Lucius, but Draco turned to her with a warm smile. "I'm happy for her." He stated, meaning Narcissa.

"I'm glad she's doing so well." Hermione picked up a piece of fish and dipped it briefly in her vinegar before biting a bit off. "And I'm sure she's glad that you're doing well, too."

Draco nodded. "She is. She never fails to tell me how proud she is of me every time I see her."

"You're not proud of you?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know if 'proud' is the right word to describe how I feel. It's more…surprised. To know that I can handle it."

"I understand that. I've been a senior case worker for two or three years now. I know that if this goblin case turns out positive for both parties, that could mean more high-profile cases for me down the road. But with the way this property dispute is shaping up, I'm shocked that I'm still hanging on. Most would have cracked under the pressure by now. Goblins are not easy to work with."

Draco snorted. "Don't I know it." He popped a couple of chips in his mouth, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "I think you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Thanks, Draco." Hermione reached over and touched his hand. "That means a lot."

Draco stared down at their hands. He began to turn his over, palm up. Hermione let her hand rest against his for a moment. His skin was warm and slightly calloused, but still soft. Draco flexed his fingers as though he meant to twine them with hers. But Hermione pulled back and picked up her pint to drain the last of the amber liquid from the glass.

Draco felt absence of it as soon as her hand disappeared from his. He curled his fingers into a fist, then withdrew his hand from the bar top and settled it on his lap. He had taken a chance, opening himself up like that. And Hermione had accepted, albeit briefly, but she had taken the invitation of his touch. He hadn't been expecting it. It made his mind whirl with possibilities, and what that moment now signified for them. He watched Hermione finish her drink and set the empty glass down.

"Another?" The barman asked as he appeared, nodding at Hermione's glass.

"Please."

"Me as well." Draco asked, and finished his glass.

"Tell me about your goblin case." He requested, turning to Hermione.

"Merlin, where do I begin?" Hermione let her chin fall into her hand. "It started with the discovery of two caverns off Dublin. Inside was a collection of swords, shields, armor and the like. The caverns were sealed until a few underage wizards that were playing around accidently blew them open. When the treasure inside was discovered, the Irish goblins were called in to identify the items. Turns out that they were forged on Irish soil by Scottish goblins that were of Irish descent. Long story short, both sides are arguing that the treasure belongs to them. And our task is to determine without a shadow of a doubt that the treasure belongs either to the Scottish or the Irish goblins. I'm stuck right now trying to set up a meeting to go over the names of the goblins who made the swords. We're tackling this in sets. Since each piece is engraved with the maker's name, and we've determined that only a half-dozen goblins forged the entire collection, we're moving through the items maker by maker. It's a bloody nightmare." Hermione took a generous sip of her fresh pint and ate a small bite of her fish.

"And how long have you been working on this?"

"Four months. The treasure part of it falls to Gringotts. They have the items locked up and I've had to make several trips back and forth to study the pieces. But I have one of the curse-breakers at Gringotts helping me. Warren, I think his name is."

Draco nodded. "He's fantastic with goblin-made treasure. He won't steer you wrong."

"That's the experience I've been having. The department's responsibility is to keep the two goblin parties from effectively killing each other."

Draco frowned. It _was_ a bloody nightmare. "Anything I can do to help?" He offered, not that he had the time, but there may be something he could assist with.

"Not unless you speak Gobbledegook." Hermione said, a little sarcastically.

"I do." Draco confirmed.

"What?" Hermione set her glass down, disbelievingly.

"Yes, I thought it would be a beneficial skill."

"You're hired." Hermione beamed at him.

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched in a brief smirk. "Let me know what I can do."

"I have a letter on my desk that needs translation. Can I bring it to you?"

"Of course. But after the holiday. I must finish organizing my team for the next excavation.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

They finished their meals over lighter conversation, trading old Hogwarts stories. Hermione had more to contribute than Draco did. The Slytherin, it seemed, had spent more time moping than he had in the company of others. Draco didn't elude much as to why, but the primary reason seemed to be loneliness. Especially as he got older and his father's past came back to haunt the entire family. Hermione listened, her hand inching closer to his as the minutes passed. Eventually, her fingers found his and this time she curled them together. Draco smiled softly at the gesture and squeezed back, then let go.

Draco paid for their drinks and meals, even though Hermione protested because she had invited _him_. But Draco merely pulled several muggle notes from his pocket and left them on the bar plus a generous tip. (He had gotten into the habit of carrying muggle money with him once he returned to England and moved into London).

They walked back to their building, each with their hands stuffed into the pockets of their coats. The air had turned bitterly cold in the time they were inside the pub. Hermione hunched inside her jacket, trying to ignore the stinging bite. As they approached the door, Draco placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding Hermione through the door in front of him. It locked magically behind them, and they were suddenly enveloped in the warmth of the entrance hall.

Hermione chuckled when she heard the radio in their landlady's flat. She had the volume all the way up again. The warbling voice of Celestina Warbeck was easily recognizable through the thin walls. Draco rolled his eyes and nodded toward the stairs. They trudged to the upper floors side by side, laughing together over the horrendous noise below. Hermione paused at her door, turning to face Draco.

"Thank you again for coming with me tonight. And for dinner."

"It was my pleasure." Draco smiled at her.

Hermione hesitated, but then leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. It took Draco a moment to realize what she had done. And another moment to hug her back. She was soft and pliant in his arms. If he wanted to, Draco knew he could lift Hermione off her feet and she would only hug him tighter. But he didn't.

Hermione pulled back, looking sheepish. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and turned to her door. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Draco. Have a good night."

Draco waved as she disappeared behind her door. It clicked just as he whispered, "You, too, Hermione."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Note: Trigger warning: mention and discussion of depression

* * *

Chapter 10 - December 30, 2003

"Do you have someone special in mind that you are going with, dear?" Madame Malkin asked as she began to pin the hem of the gold gown Hermione stood in facing the mirrors.

"Yes. I do." Hermione answered, trying to remain as still as possible. The dress seemed to move fluidly around her of its own accord. She couldn't believe how weightless it felt on her. The shimmer alone from the fabric was going to be enough to catch several eyes, but she was more concerned about the damn thing falling off. "It feels very loose."

"Well, you are quite slim, dear. I'll need to take it in everywhere for you. But don't worry, it will be done for Saturday evening."

"I have every faith." Hermione gazed down at the shop owner in the mirror.

They shared a smile and Madame Malkin went back to work on the hem of Hermione's gown. Once finished she moved on to the bodice, and took down the new measurements. "That's you done." She announced as she swirled her wand and the gown disappeared, leaving Hermione dressed in her own clothing once more.

"Thank you. I'll come by on Friday to pick it up."

"I'll have it ready." Madame Malkin promised.

Hermione thanked Madam Malkin again and made her way out. Diagon Alley was slightly less crowded than it had been a couple hours earlier, and she was able to walk among the shops in peace, stopping here and there to peruse window displays.

She returned Friday evening after leaving the Ministry to pick up her dress. Madame Malkin had her put it on one more time before leaving to check the fit, deemed it perfect, and sent Hermione on her way. Once back at her flat she hung the gown on her bathroom door and stared at it. _Yes_ , she decided, Draco would like it despite the Gryffindor gold. She had considered a silver dress first, but was unsure how the color would contrast with her pale skin. Draco could wear gray, any shade of it, and pull it off beautifully she had noticed.

Then again, he could wear just about anything and make it look stylish.

As Hermione got ready the following evening she felt the beginnings of nerves. Her mind whirled with the possibilities of the evening. Not that it mattered, but she knew there were going to be whispers and stares following them everywhere. She wasn't sure how Draco would react, or how he would take insinuations that they were together.

Because they weren't.

One date did not a relationship make. Even if that one date had been wonderful. (At least in Hermione's opinion it was).

As far as Hermione could tell, Draco didn't seem interested in anything more than friendship.

And that was ok, she told herself. She wasn't looking for anything serious, or a real commitment right now either. But how would Draco act if someone were to ask?

 _No use worrying about it if doesn't actually happen_ , Hermione mused as she applied a little makeup and charmed her hair into an intricate braided knot behind her left ear. Another swirl of her wand and a half dozen sparkling, gold charms adorned the up-do. She was pleased with the overall effect and thought it looked very elegant. More elegant than she was used to seeing herself. She was only twenty-four, but she felt so much older. Physically she was closer to thirty, thanks to her excessive use of the Time-Turner in her third year. But a witch's body didn't show age the same way a muggle female's body did. Something to do with the way magic affects the whole aging process. Of course, Hermione knew so much more about it, but her mind didn't want to process that line of thinking right now.

She let out a breath as she gave her appearance another once-over, fixed the fall of a stray curl by her right ear, and smiled at her reflection. Not a full smile, the one she reserved for the _Daily Prophet_ photographers. _Never give anything away_ , she told herself as she nodded to her reflection. She was ready.

Hermione arrived early at the Ministry, early enough that the tables were just beginning to be set up in the Atrium. She waved to Kingsley as she passed him on her way to the lifts.

Draco had asked Hermione to meet him in his office tonight. He had wanted to come in today to get ahead on a particularly difficult chest he had been brought by one of the remaining members of the Travers family, discovered in the family vault. And instead of attempting to open it (like most families do when they find a long-lost item that has a lock on it) it was brought in via the goblins so Draco could examine it.

He spent the morning detailing the chest and writing up the spells and curses he could pick up on the outside of the chest. It wasn't very large, about the size of an average keepsake box. Runes and Latin spells were etched into the wood and there were old stains on it that Draco suspected were blood, but could very well be potion spills. He got up from his chair after finishing a final note and pulled on his dragonhide gloves, the ones that went past his wrist, and reached out one hand to the chest. From what he could tell so far, the curses on the outside were meant to deter. They would cause pain and minor injury upon direct contact, but nothing more serious than that.

Still, Draco took his time.

He rested first the tips of his fingers on the top of the chest, and when nothing happened, the dragonhide protecting his skin, he rested his palm on the curved lid. Draco picked up his wand and, holding the chest steady, started his first string of spells to open the lock. Nothing happened.

"Damn," Draco cursed under his breath and set his wand down.

He took the chest in both hands, now that he knew it was safe to touch with the gloves on, and carried it over to the cabinet in the corner where he locked up everything he was working on so it wasn't left out for accidents to happen. He turned back to his office after locking the cabinet door, surprised to see Hermione standing there.

He froze.

She was stunning.

Her slim frame was draped in gold that sparkled softly in the muted light of his office. The fabric clung to her small curves, but it wasn't inappropriately tight. Just enough to show off her feminine figure. Her hair was caught up in a stylish bun behind her left ear, and from where he stood, Draco could see something shine from amongst the light brown curls and braids. Her makeup was soft, accentuating her already lovely features.

"Having a difficult time?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Draco asked, not sure what she was referencing.

"The chest you just put away." She nodded at the cabinet behind him.

"Oh. Um, yes. How long have you been there?" Draco asked, shaking himself from the daze he had fallen into. He walked back to his desk, removing his gloves, and dropped them on top of a pile of parchment.

"A few minutes." Hermione smiled at him. "Are you ready?"

Draco nodded, chancing a glance up at her and letting his eyes wander over her frame as he pulled on his black waistcoat over the black dress shirt and tie he was already wearing, then his best black dress robes.

"With all of the variety I've seen in your wardrobe you chose to wear straight black?" Hermione teased.

"I look good in it."

Hermione dropped her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from responding. She wasn't going to argue that point.

"And while that dress is going to be unequaled to anything any other witch is wearing tonight, I would like to make one small adjustment."

Hermione looked down at the gold of her gown and back up to Draco, her brows drawn in confusion. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." Draco grinned at her. "I want to add to it."

"How exactly?" She was suspicious, but she knew Draco wouldn't do anything to her dress to embarrass her. Right?

"Just hold still a moment." Draco pulled his wand out and muttered under his breath as he performed a swirl and swish motion. "There. You can open your eyes now, Hermione."

Hermione cracked them, not having realized she had shut her eyes in the first place. She looked down at her dress again. At first, she noticed no difference. But then she twisted and gasped. As she moved, and the material of the dress moved with her, it shimmered from gold to silver and back to gold. The material changed with the slightest twitch from her. It was difficult to tell the true color of the dress as it flashed between the two hues.

"Oh Merlin…" She breathed as she turned, making the hem swish.

"I take it you like it?" Draco asked as he shut his office door and locked it.

"It's...where did you learn this?"

"A magician never tells." Draco smirked at her and offered his arm.

Hermione took it feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. "Are you making a muggle reference?"

"Don't act too surprised."

"I am, and I'm not."

"That sounds about right."

She held onto Draco as they rode back to the Atrium in the lift and all the way across the grand entrance of the Ministry to the tables. As she predicted, stares and whispers followed, but they didn't seem to realize that it was Hermione on Draco's arm. People were merely surprised to see Draco in attendance at all.

Of course, Harry couldn't be fooled, and walked over to join the table where Hermione and Draco sat as soon as he and Ginny arrived. Harry greeted his friend with a kiss to her cheek and shook Draco's hand civilly, even though he stared the other wizard down. Hermione noticed that they weren't exactly trying to avoid breaking the other's hand.

"Maybe we should go get drinks?" Ginny offered, picking up on the tension as well.

"No, I'll get them. You two sit and catch up." Harry offered. "Malfoy." He indicated for Draco to come with him. And much to Hermione's surprise, Draco followed.

Not that he was allowing Potter to order him around, a Malfoy never took orders from anyone, but he could tell the Auror wanted to talk. He could grant that much. For now.

"What's on your mind?" Draco asked as they approached the comestibles table.

Harry grabbed two glasses of champagne. "Did you ask her or did she ask you?"

"Tonight? She did. Why does that matter?" Draco turned to the wizard behind the table and asked for a glass of firewhiskey.

Harry sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, because I don't know what there is between you and Hermione, but she's been hurt enough by everything that happened with Ron. And now with him and Lavender married…"

"Wait," Draco cut in, he grabbed the glass that had been placed in front of him. "Does Hermione know they got married? I don't remember seeing anything in the _Prophet_."

"Because there wasn't. They just got married on Christmas Eve. It was very small, very private."

Draco was confused. He assumed with the engagement being announced that a grand ceremony was to follow. _Another one from the Golden Trio ties the knot_ , or something equally asinine. But why so soon?

"I assume there's a good reason."

"Ron didn't say anything to me, but I think Lavender is pregnant. She was showing a little in her wedding dress. Or that could have been the sheer volume of the dress itself." Harry shrugged and nodded toward the table. "Don't say anything to Hermione, please. I'll talk to her."

"Why are you telling me anything at all?" Draco finished his firewhiskey and asked for another.

"Because she seems happy around you, Malfoy. Despite what I may think your intentions are, you make her smile. And I haven't seen Hermione smile in a long time."

"So, I'm supposed to be the pillow that cushions her fall?"

"I think she would go to you, yes."

They were both silent for a minute as Draco sipped his whiskey, and Potter stood there looking awkward with the two glasses still in his hands.

"What do you think my intentions are?" Draco asked after he thought he had made Potter squirm long enough.

"If they are anything less than honorable, just know that if you _do_ hurt her…"

"There's no need to threaten me, Potter, because I won't hurt her. We're just friends."

"If you say so. Let's go back before they get suspicious."

Draco nodded in agreement and they walked back to the table. Shortly after they sat down Harry noticed Ron arrive with Lavender on his arm. She was wearing a very frilly baby pink dress that draped in such a way as to camouflage the small bump Harry knew was there. He watched them walk over to a table already inhabited by Percy and his wife Penelope.

Ron looked around as he held out Lavender's chair for her, obviously searching. Harry was thankful that his friend's eyes did not find him right away. He wanted to approach Ron first, but not until he spoke to Hermione. Privately.

Harry never got the chance. The group of four spent the first hour debating over several topics as hour 'devours were served and Ministry witches and wizards came over to greet and chat with Harry and Hermione. Kingsely himself sat down at the table to discuss his restructuring ideas for the Auror department. He had already spoken with the Head Auror, but since Harry was second in command, he wanted to speak to the younger wizard as well. Ginny, Hermione, and Draco entertained themselves with some wizard watching for nearly fifteen minutes until dinner was served and Kingsley retreated to his own table.

After dinner, the hired entertainment for the night struck up quite a few lively tunes, and Harry found himself on the dance floor twirling his wife around as he had on their wedding day. Ginny laughed and let him dip her, just for fun. She had already partaken of the champagne quite freely, and Harry knew he would be on bottle duty the next morning with little James.

He glanced back at the table from time to time, but Draco and Hermione never got up to dance together. They sat, deep in conversation, picking at their dinners (both of which had barely been touched). Harry knew he shouldn't feel concerned, but Hermione was starting to adapt her old habit of not eating. And she only skipped meals, or picked like she was now, when something was bothering her.

He was almost positive that she didn't know about Ron and Lavender, or she would have come to him to talk. Or maybe she wouldn't. Now that Harry thought about it, Hermione had become very private since her breakup with Ron. She didn't reveal as much anymore, and talked around questions put to her to avoid giving answers.

Harry watched her and Draco interact for a minute longer. Hermione reached out and placed her hand on Draco's very briefly before pulling it away. Had Draco been lying before when he said they were just friends?

"What's so interesting?" Ginny asked, turning to look in the same direction her husband was. She watched Hermione and Draco interact for a moment and then looked back to Harry. "Do you think they're secretly seeing each other?"

"I don't know." Harry answered honestly. He spun Ginny out and pulled her in. "Do you?"

Ginny shrugged. She had been surprised when Draco showed up to the party on Christmas Eve. They had invited Hermione over for a small gathering they had planned after the reception for Ron and Lavender, (Ginny had attended the wedding in the morning, but Harry had been unable). A lot of their friends from Hogwarts had not been invited to the ceremony, and Ginny wanted to have them all over for Christmas. Hermione included. Molly had intended to invite Hermione to the wedding to be polite, and because Hermione was still another daughter to her. Until Harry stepped in and talked Molly out of it. He understood the gesture his mother-in-law was trying to make, but inviting Hermione to the wedding was throwing the memory of Ron cheating in her face.

Ginny had been surprised not only by Draco's appearance on Christmas Eve, but also by the way Hermione seemed to gravitate toward him all night. She was always by his side, inching closer as the evening wore on.

Seeing them now across the way, she was sure _something_ was going on. But what exactly, she had no idea. If Hermione wanted to confide in her, she would. Until then, Ginny was staying well out of it. Hermione was a grown witch and she could make her own decisions about who she wanted to be with. Draco Malfoy was not the worst choice, (in Ginny's book at least). Even though he was a former Death Eater, and had tormented Hermione through her first five years of Hogwarts. She could do a lot worse.

"So, what if they are?" Ginny questioned.

Harry shrugged now. "It doesn't matter. So long as Malfoy doesn't do anything to make me regret regretting cursing him in Sixth year."

Ginny giggled and leaned up on her toes to kiss her husband. "I don't think your moral conscience would ever let you forget."

~S~

Hermione smiled as she glanced over to the dance floor and watched Ginny peck Harry sweetly on the lips before he spun her out again. Draco turned around, noticed the lovesick Potter couple, and rolled his eyes. He returned his gaze to Hermione, who frowned at him and crossed her arms. "What?"

"Don't be judgmental." She chided.

"I'm not a fan of public displays of affection. And those two are so…" Draco made a disgusted face and Hermione laughed quietly.

"They love each other. I think it's sweet."

"Sickening." Draco drawled, giving a shudder.

Hermione giggled again, and shook her head. Draco joined her this time and then stood up letting out a long breath. "I need another drink. Can I get you something?"

"I won't say no to a glass of wine." Hermione requested as she got up as well. She let the motion naturally stretch her muscles and sighed quietly, missing the heated look Draco cast in her direction.

"I'll be right back." He muttered and disappeared.

Hermione looked around, catching site of Ginny and Harry and waved at her friends as they passed nearby on the dance floor.

"Hi, 'Mione."

Hermione turned sharply to see Ron behind her. He smiled, looking embarrassed, hands shoved in his pockets. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking from her to the floor and back.

"Hi, Ron. Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"It was good, yeah." He answered. "I just wanted to come over and say hi. And that you look really nice."

"Oh. Thank you. You look nice, too. Black suits you for dress robes."

Ron blushed and offered her a tight smile. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"So," She started slowly, folding her hands. "How are things?" It was the most awkward moment she could remember with Ron.

"Good. Lav and I…" Ron started, but trailed off as Lavender suddenly appeared on his arm as though he had summoned her.

"There you are." She simpered at him. Her eyes flicked momentarily to Hermione, then she folded her hands around Ron's arm. "I was wondering where my husband got off to."

Hermione felt her eyes widen and she looked down, catching sight of the glittering ring so prominently displayed on Lavender's left hand. Not that she should feel surprised, their engagement had been publicly announced. She just hadn't expected the marriage to happen so quickly.

Ron blushed furiously at Lavender's statement and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "I'll be right back, Lavender. I just wanted to catch up with Hermione."

"Oh! Did you tell her the good news?" Lavender asked, flicking her eyes to Hermione again.

"I noticed." Hermione smiled politely, indicating the ring on Lavender's finger. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Lavender laughed, "but there's more."

"Lav, wait, please." Ron muttered.

But Lavender didn't hear him, or just ignored Ron completely, and barreled on. "We're having a baby, too."

Hermione's mouth dropped open this time. "Oh!" She breathed out. "That's…that's wonderful." Her stomach twisted painfully, but she showed no sign of distress.

"It is, isn't it?" Lavender simpered again. "We haven't even been together officially one year and I've given Ronald everything he ever wanted."

Ron blanched and looked sharply at Lavender. He chanced a look back at Hermione. Her expression was guarded, but he could tell Lavender's remark had struck her hard. He watched as she smiled at them, eyes shining.

"Congratulations, again. I'm very happy for you both." She said quietly.

Lavender smiled sweetly at her and gave Ron's arm a tug. "Come on, Won-won, they're going to count down to midnight soon."

Ron let himself be pulled along. He tried to say something to Hermione as he walked past her, but words failed him.

Hermione stood there staring at the spot the couple had occupied until a breath escaped her and she groped behind herself for a chair. She had only just collapsed into it as Draco arrived at the table.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He asked, noticing the distress on her face and the way her arms were wrapped around her torso.

"I…I need to leave." She whispered, eyes closed tight. If she could just make it to the fireplaces and Floo back to her flat she would be all right. She could lose it as soon as she was home.

"Ok, let's go." Draco helped her up and wrapped an arm around her as they walked in the opposite direction of the crowd headed for the dance floor. One minute to midnight.

Harry pulled Ginny into his side as midnight approached and looked back over his shoulder to see if Hermione and Draco had joined the bustle on the dance floor. When he didn't find them right away his eyes searched, finally spotting them walking toward the fireplaces. Hermione was leaning into Draco's side, his arm around her back. It didn't look intimate, more like support.

Harry searched the crowd again, his eyes finding Ron's. Lavender was standing beside him, chatting with the witch next to her and laughing. Ron looked ashamed. Harry nodded in Hermione and Draco's direction. He looked over his shoulder and then turned back to Harry, ashen. He shook his head indicating he couldn't talk about it.

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at Lavender. Somehow, he knew this was her fault.

Ginny grabbed his hand just then, distracting him. He looked back up at the clock behind the stage. Ten seconds to go. But the fun had been sucked out of him. He almost didn't notice when Ginny grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss. He kissed her back just in time before she realized how distracted he was.

"Happy New Year, Harry." She smiled brilliantly at him.

"Happy New Year, Gin.

~S~

Draco stepped into the fireplace beside Hermione, holding tightly to her hand. He called out the address of his flat and the next moment they were spinning together and then stepping from his fireplace. Hermione thanked him quietly and let go of his hand. Draco watched her cross the room and stop in front of his French doors, staring out at the night and the cacophony of colors being shot into the air from the bank of the Thames. Draco ducked into his kitchen and grabbed his oldest bottle of Ogden's. He had taken it from his father's personal collection the last time he had been at the manor and put it away, only to be taken out on those really horrible days.

Well, tonight certainly counted, as far as he could tell.

When he returned to the sitting room, Hermione had moved to the couch, with her knees drawn up and arms wrapped tight around her legs. Draco sat next to her and handed her a glass of the firewhiskey. Hermione took it, fingers trembling.

"Thank you, Draco."

Draco nodded and sipped from his glass. "May I ask?"

"What happened?" Hermione questioned back. "Ron. Lavender." She muttered their names as she sipped her alcohol. "I mean, mostly Lavender."

"I'm surprised you didn't let it roll right off you."

"Not this." Hermione breathed. She tipped back the rest of the whiskey and looked at Draco. "Do you have more?"

Draco had thought ahead and brought the bottle with him. He refilled her glass a third of the way. Hermione murmured her thanks and sipped from the fresh glass.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco pressed gently.

"No. Yes." Hermione blurted out.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." Draco assured her.

"My Healer told me it would be beneficial to talk about it. Or anything, really, that's troubling me. She reminds me every week."

Draco felt his eyes widen. Hermione saw a Healer every week?

"Are you ill?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. She hadn't looked up from her glass in several minutes. But now she raised her head. Draco saw that the light that had been dancing in her eyes this evening was extinguished. "It's just hard to get through the day sometimes. I talk to her, and she takes me through different mind practices to help sort out my feelings and thoughts. I didn't need to see her for years. But then Ron and I split…and I started seeing her again."

"Can I ask what for?"

Hermione shrugged. "In muggle terms, it's called depression. I've had it for years, according to my Healer. I've just suppressed it."

Draco had heard of it. One of the younger curse-breakers he had trained with was muggle-born. His mother had suffered from the condition after his father left when he had been a child. Draco remembered him telling stories of days where his mother wouldn't get out of bed. Thankfully his grandmother had moved in to fill the vacancy of his missing parent, so he hadn't gone uncared for. But it took his mother months to find a modicum of herself again and resume a semi-normal life.

Draco was horrified and wondered if his own mother was suffering something similar. Unfortunately, there was no magic potion to cure the effects. He had researched it. There were only draughts to bring temporary peace of mind, or happiness. But when the effects of those wore off, the drinker was still left with the imbalance causing the depression in the first place.

It seemed to him that it left someone feeling broken.

And that was a feeling Draco knew well. He'd felt that way so many times in his youth. Specifically, his teenage years. Even more specifically since he received the Dark Mark. Seven years now he had been living with the poison of it. Seven years he had been struggling to prove to himself that he was not as weak as his father. He wouldn't take the easy way out and succumb to the darkness, let it harden his heart until he was dead inside. Because that had been the cause of Lucius Malfoy's emotional downfall. He shut his heart away from everything and everyone, presented an outward façade of uncaring. In his father's defense, according to his mother, Lucius only showed such coldness to protect his family. But just the fact that his father considered love a weakness was reason enough for Draco to keep fighting his personal battle.

Draco glance sideways at Hermione. She sipped her whiskey and set the glass down on the table. Then she turned to him. "Thank you again, Draco. I'm think I'm ok to return to my flat."

"Are you sure?" Draco leaned in to the back of his sofa.

He knew from personal experience that when your mind is trying to process too many emotions, mixed with memories both good and bad, (because he had a feeling that whatever had upset Hermione tonight had something to do with Ronald Weasley), it was never a safe idea to be alone. The emptiness around you only amplified the empty feeling inside.

"Maybe. I don't know." Hermione leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. The movement of her body caused her dress to shimmer and the skirt became a cascade of gold and silver as it shimmered and changed.

It was a beautiful representation of the woman encased in the silky material. But was diminished by her current disposition. One of pain, confusion and, if Draco wasn't mistaken, a sense of being lost.

"You can stay here tonight." Draco offered before he could stop himself. "If you don't think you can be alone."

Hermione shook her head before responding, and Draco thought she was saying no. His heart sank for a moment.

"I don't know. About being alone, I mean."

That wasn't an answer to his question.

"If you're unsure then you probably shouldn't be."

Hermione let out a breath. "I know you're right, Draco. But honestly…" She turned to him, "I think it's best if I go back to my flat."

She sat up and pushed off the couch. The movement once more made her dress shimmer and transition, though Hermione took no notice of it. Draco rose as well and walked with her to the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and tossed it in for her.

"I know it's just downstairs, but be safe." Draco requested as he helped Hermione over the grate, into the emerald flames.

Hermione looked up at Draco in shock, taking in the sincere expression on his face. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, smiling against his warm skin. She was still smiling as she pulled away, still holding his hand. Draco looked down, taking in her palm pressed against his, before letting go. Hermione called out her flat one floor below and disappeared. Draco watched the empty fireplace where she had just stood. A moment later, scarlet flames burst up from the floor of the hearth, flashed, and were gone. She was home safe. He hadn't asked for the confirmation, but appreciated the respect of acknowledging his concern for her.

Draco returned to the sofa and picked up Hermione's half-finished glass. As he sat there, sipping on it, his mind wandered over the evening. He had been walking back from retrieving drinks when he noticed Hermione speaking to the Weasel (there was no mistaking that flaming hair). As Draco approached, a woman sidled up beside Weasley and took his arm. Draco hadn't wanted Hermione to know he was eavesdropping, and so hung back in the shadow of a column where he could still hear the conversation.

Lavender Brown giggled sickeningly. And then proceeded to throw her marriage, and pregnancy, in Hermione's face. The way she said it sounded like a dig at Hermione. He chanced a look past the column to see Hermione walking in his direction. Anger had risen in him when he saw how upset she was. But he buried it for the time being in the face of the breakdown that Hermione was clearly having. He walked her out as she had asked, arm tight around her back for support.

He had meant it when he offered for Hermione to stay the night. He would have gladly slept on the couch (although a part of him wouldn't have minded sharing his bed). There was no denying his attraction to the muggle-born witch. He had known for months now. And yet he only acted on it in his thoughts and dreams.

Draco shook his head to rid it of anything indecent before the images started. He rose back up from the sofa, leaving the glasses and bottle behind as he wandered off to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Note: Trigger warning: Mention and discussion of loss.

Chapter 11 - January 5, 2004

The first day back from the holidays, Hermione ensconced herself behind a pile of paperwork, trying to distract herself from the fact that she had passed Ron and Lavender at the tea stand in the Atrium. He had had an arm around her waist and was bending to kiss the top of her head. Hermione hurried along, getting her tea instead from the communal area in the department. Draco was also there when she arrived, stirring his tea nonchalantly and chatting amicably with a very pretty witch from the Beast Division. Hermione added milk first to her cup and began to pour. Unfortunately, she couldn't help overhearing the conversation next to her and tried to look busy as she lingered.

"So, how about tomorrow night, Draco? Are you free?" asked the blonde witch beside him.

"Not sure, I'll have to check my schedule."

"Maybe another time?"

"We'll see."

Hermione chanced a glance and watched Draco smile flirtatiously. The witch giggled and went on her way.

"Morning, Granger." Draco greeted her.

Hermione stood up, stirring her tea. "Good morning." She took a moment to admire his suit. Navy blue with a cream shirt and a brown, teal, and white checker-striped tie. He had already taken off his suit jacket (which was Draco's custom first thing in the morning), leaving him in just the navy-blue waistcoat.

Draco offered her a small smile, still stirring his tea, and Hermione returned it. "What happened to your teapot?" She asked dropping two sugar cubes into her cup.

"Broken." Draco replied. He sipped his tea. "Lunch today?"

Hermione beamed at him now, not knowing where it came from. But then remembered herself and picked up her tea. "Yes, that would be nice."

She then proceeded to her office, cheeks flaming, and hid behind her case files. This was where Harry found her just before lunch, pouring over a thick bundle of documents and making notes in purple ink on a separate pad. Harry stood in the door watching, half amused, half concerned. No doubt she had been sitting here all morning and hadn't eaten anything since breakfast (if she even ate breakfast).

"Hiding?" Harry asked, when he recognized Hermione was pausing.

She looked up as she set her quill down. "Kind of." She tried to smile, but it was faint, and not at all convincing to her implication of 'I'm fine'. Harry walked further into her office, leaving the door open, and sat down in one of the armchairs facing her desk. "Come to check on me?" She asked, folding her arms over the pile of parchment she had been reading.

"Kind of." Harry smiled at her. "I haven't spoken to Ron, but I assumed it was something Lavender said that got you upset the other night."

Hermione looked away over his shoulder for a moment at the back wall of her office. "She…has a way with words." She responded vaguely.

Harry leaned back in the chair. "I suppose that talent serves her well working at the _Daily Prophet_."

"I suppose." Hermione agreed.

Silence fell between them and Harry let it stretch, looking around Hermione's office as she straightened up her desk.

"Are you ok?" He asked once his eyes came back to her.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she worded her response in her mind. "I'm all right." She answered, looking her friend in the eye.

It was simple enough, didn't give anything away. But it sounded just as convincing as she had tried to be earlier. In other words, not at all. It wasn't a complete lie. She was in a better place emotionally than she had been on New Year's Eve. Mentally, she was still dealing with the effect of Lavender's words, which she was going to discuss with her Healer this week at their appointment.

Harry regarded Hermione shrewdly for a few moments. But he stood, apparently satisfied with her answer and conviction. "I just wanted to check on you, Hermione. You're my friend and I care about you." Hermione got up from her desk and walked around it to hug Harry. He had always been a great source of strength for her, and she was thankful for him. "You know you've always got me and Ginny around to run to, right?" He asked as they parted.

"Yes, thank you. I don't know what I would do without you sometimes. Both of you."

Harry reached out this time and pulled Hermione in. "You'll always be a sister to me, Hermione."

They pulled apart this time just as a 'tap, tap' sounded on Hermione's door. Both friends looked to the office entry to see Ron standing there. He lowered his right hand and shoved it into his pocket. Hermione noticed his left one was already buried in the corresponding side.

"Hi, Ron." She greeted him cordially.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?" He looked between the two.

"No." Harry answered. "I just came by to see Hermione. I'm about to head to lunch. Did either of you want to join me?"

Ron shook his head.

"I've got plans already. But tomorrow, or another day this week."

"Plans with who?" Ron asked, sounding perturbed.

"A friend." Hermione answered, her tone already turning defensive.

"Who just so happens to also be a former Death Eater." Ron snapped.

 _Oh no_ , Harry thought. "Ron, this really isn't…" He started to say, but Hermione cut across him.

"So, what if he is, Ron? It's not your business."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, 'Mione. His family…"

"See me get hurt?" Hermione half-shouted

Harry released his wand from its arm holster and flicked it at the door, which shut itself, then flicked it again to place a silencing charm on the office just as Hermione gathered more steam.

~S~

Draco had been watching the clock all morning, mostly because he was hungry, (he had skipped a short break to work on the chest), but he was also looking forward to seeing Hermione. He told himself the excitement stemmed from her enjoyable company, and the intriguing conversations they engaged in over the midday meal. In actuality, it was his attraction to the muggle-born witch. He'd already conceded that there was no point in denying it any longer. They weren't best friends, but that didn't mean he didn't want to get to know her better.

Because he did.

And what better way than to do so than over drinks? The attempt from the blonde witch who tried to ask him out this morning was laughable. But Draco was not raised (by his mother) to be rude. And so, he had spoken politely with her without promising anything. His focus then turned to Granger. And while his intention had been to invite her to accompany him out for an evening, (perhaps to a muggle pub where they were less likely to be disturbed or recognized), it came out as a question asking if they were going to have lunch together today.

Glancing at his clock again, Draco noticed it was now nearing one in the afternoon. He placed a stasis charm on the chest so that the neutralizing spells he was utilizing had a chance to continue in their progress, and locked it in a box that he spelled shut. He removed his dragonhide gloves and left them on top of the box so that he would be sure to put them back on first thing before proceeding after lunch. As he rounded his desk, he noticed a very familiar head of red hair enter the department and turn in the direction of Hermione's office.

Feeling skeptical about Weasley's intentions, Draco exited his office and took the now familiar route to Granger's office. He heard shouting as he approached, not to his surprise. What was, however, was Hermione's office door swinging shut as he rounded the corner, and the familiar sudden quiet from within indicative of a silencing charm.

~S~

Harry hated being stuck in the middle between Ron and Hermione. He'd been there so many times in all the years the trio had known each other and been friends. Acting as a go-between when they were arguing and refusing to speak to each other. He was uncomfortable at best and unwilling at worst. However, he thought as he watched Ron and Hermione exchange verbal blows now, it was never this bad.

"If you don't want to see me get hurt, Ron, then why did you just stand there the other night and let your _wife_ ," Hermione practically growled the word, "insult me?"

"I tried to stop her, Hermione. She didn't listen to me."

"That's a pathetic excuse, Ron, and you know it. And how could you let her say that? Did you tell her what happened?"

Harry looked between the two. He wasn't sure if they had forgotten he was still there with them. What in Merlin's name was Hermione referencing? Surely not their break up. The entire wizarding world knew about that.

Ron fumbled for words in the wake of Hermione's accusation. He hadn't told Lavender the specifics. Just vented about Hermione's lack of interest in his own desires for their future. Looking back, he probably shouldn't have said anything. But the damage was done, and Lavender had taken advantage of the knowledge he chose to impart. And hit Hermione where she knew it would do the most damage.

"I didn't tell her anything personal." Ron retorted.

"But you _did_ say something? Is that what I'm understanding?"

Ron didn't bother to try and meet her eyes.

"Ron, how could you?" Hermione pleaded. "We promised to keep it between us. That it was too painful to put everyone else through. It was too painful for _us_ to go through."

Harry suddenly had an inkling of what had happened. And he prayed to Merlin he was wrong. To know that Ron and Hermione had suffered in such a way and chose to never tell anyone. He didn't know what hurt more. That they had kept whatever happened from their friends, or the agony they went through together. A memory tickled the edges of his mind.

About four years ago, Ron had come in after the weekend looking ashen and exhausted. Harry had noticed and asked his best friend if everything was all right, Ron had replied that everything was fine, except that Hermione had come down with a very bad flu and he had had to take her to St. Mungo's. She was supposed to be released the following day, and he asked if he could leave early to take her home. Harry had granted the time off and offered to drop by the next evening, but Ron told him it wasn't necessary. Harry didn't give it a second thought. Hermione returned to work by the end of the week. She looked a bit more diminished from the illness, but still had a smile for him.

Now that Harry concentrated on that memory, he realized her smile had been tight, and she had been walking with a slight limp.

"I didn't go into specifics, Hermione." Ron's voice stated, pulling Harry from his reminiscing.

"It doesn't matter what you d _idn't_ tell her Ron." Hermione shouted.

"Well, who else was I supposed to talk to?" Ron shouted back.

Harry was sure now that they had forgotten he was still in the same room with them.

"You shut down on me. It was months before we had a real conversation again."

Hermione looked as though Ron had struck her. "You...You were seeing Lavender then?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"I wasn't sleeping with her yet."

Harry was appalled by Ron's response. He was certain his friend hadn't meant it, and it had come out in anger. But Harry could tell from the look on Hermione's face that she was never going to forget this revelation.

"That doesn't make the situation any better, Ron." Hermione struggled to speak as her voice broke on each word. "Please tell me you weren't seeing her when you proposed to me."

"Not at the time, no. You and I were good then."

"So, she was something you kept in your back pocket just in case things went south between us again?"

Harry winced.

"What was I supposed to do, Hermione? You didn't talk to me! You lost interest in everything! You lost interest in me!"

"We lost a child, Ron!" Hermione screamed now, tears streaming down her face.

Harry fell into one of the armchairs, the wind knocked out of him. The sound of the chair scraping across the floor seemed to snap Ron and Hermione from their standoff. They both turned to him with matching expression of surprise and embarrassment.

"Oh, Harry. I forgot you were here. Oh no." Hermione covered her face with her hands.

"How could you not tell anyone?" Harry whispered, unable to meet her eyes.

"I…we…" Hermione looked to Ron, but he was still staring at his best friend.

Ron took a few deep breaths, glanced at Hermione, and switched his focus back to his best mate. "It happened very quickly." He said quietly. "We didn't know how to react."

"But running to Lavender seemed to make sense." Hermione snapped.

Ron ignored this.

"I did everything I could think of, Hermione. You didn't want to talk. Or try."

"Ron, that's not fair." Harry tried to interject.

"No, he's right." Hermione conceded. "I didn't want to talk. But neither did you, Ron. You didn't make the effort either. Thinking and doing are two different things. The blame goes both ways. You can't pretend to be the solitary victim. It affected both of us. And when we finally _did_ start working together again, you were already seeing Lavender. Or were you sleeping with her at that point, too? Well, now you have her, and have everything you ever wanted." Hermione ranted, her voice growing louder and louder as she went on. "You have a happy marriage and a child on the way. The family you always dreamed of. Something I…I _failed_ to give you. And you let her rub that in my face." She ended with a deep breath and a forlorn look at her friend. "I'm so sorry, Harry." With a last glimpse at Ron, Hermione brushed past him and through her office door.

Draco jumped out of the way just in time as Hermione rushed by him. She had her arms crossed over her chest, holding herself tight. Tears ran down her face as she hurried past. Draco remained on the other side of the door when he heard movement inside the office. Potter's and Weasley's voices drifted out to him, which meant the silencing charm had been negated when Hermione opened the door.

"Why didn't you both say anything?" Harry asked, his voice heavy with confusion and disappointment.

"It was too personal. And too soon after the war ended. We agreed at the time it was for the best."

"I suppose. We all had so much we were still sorting through emotionally."

"Do you think she'll ever speak to me again?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. You certainly didn't give her reason to just now."

"We tried…for the longest time. We tried and we fought so hard to make things work. We were doing so well when I proposed."

"Then why, Ron, in Merlin's name did you cheat on her?"

Ron sighed audibly. "I don't have a good answer. We failed each other so many times after she lost…" His voice broke and he stopped.

Draco heard a chair move and footsteps cross the office. "Stop, Ron. You don't have to say it. Look, I'm going to go find Hermione and take her home to Ginny."

"I really fucked up." Ron groaned.

"We'll talk about this later. I need to process it myself. It's just…I really can't believe you never told us."

There was another sniff, followed by more footsteps. Draco waited until both wizards left the office, the door closing behind them, before moving away. Weasley and Potter walked off without noticing him. Their conversation had not been much to go on, but Draco was clever enough to put the pieces together. And the reality of it hit him in the chest like the Cruciatus Curse.

He wanted to go find Granger himself, but Potter would know better on where to look for her. Best to leave him to it. Draco returned to his office, his appetite forgotten in the wake of what he had just learned. He knew the next time he saw Hermione it was going to be difficult to keep the knowledge of what he heard out of his eyes when facing her.

Perhaps he should obliviate himself?

But Draco decided against that as soon as the thought crossed his mind. The only thing he could do was settle in to work for the rest of the day and hope that Potter was able to locate Hermione.

Draco didn't see Hermione for the rest of the week. She returned to the Ministry the following Monday in a navy-blue pencil skirt dress and mint green cardigan. Her hair was wild and curly, even though it was pulled back in a bun. She wore little makeup and look exhausted, but she had a smile for him when he stopped by her office.

Draco knocked on the open door, taking in the teetering stacks of files on her desk and the open cabinet behind her. Hermione was completely absorbed in the notes she was scribbling that she told him "one moment" while she finished writing, and then set her quill down She obviously had not been expecting to see Draco in her doorway, because her eyes widened and her face broke into a smile when she looked up.

"Draco, hi." She got up from her desk and walked over to hug him.

Draco hugged her back, slowly because he hadn't been ready for it, then dropped his arms when Hermione pulled back.

"Hey. Welcome back."

Hermione blushed and thanked him. "I wasn't feeling well for a few days. But I'm better now."

"Good."

"Did I miss anything?" Hermione asked as she sat back down.

"Nothing exciting. At least from what I've gathered. My end of the department is quiet most of the time."

"That's good. I don't usually skip work. But when I do something exciting always happens." Hermione moved a few things around on her desk then folded her hands on top. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to come by and say hello." Draco leaned in the doorway. _I missed you_. The words rolled around on his tongue, but didn't leave his mouth. "Welcome you back."

Hermione smiled and dropped her eyes in embarrassment as a blush filled her cheeks. She was usually not so demure when paid a compliment, or shown concern or consideration. It was just so unexpected coming from Draco Malfoy. It made her feel almost…uncomfortable. But it felt good at the same time.

"I also wanted to ask if you would like to accompany me for a drink after work tonight." Draco asked next.

Hermione's blush deepened, but she didn't look away this time. "Where?" She inquired, intrigued.

"A place I know." Draco hedged, smirking.

Clearly, he wasn't going to divulge. Either because he couldn't remember the name off the top of his head (unlikely), or because he wanted to surprise her. That thought filled Hermione with a thrill and the corners of her mouth threatened to expose another smile. She didn't want to appear too anxious or excited. She schooled her expression into one of pleasant surprise and accepted that she was not going to get the information out of him until they arrived at the location.

 _Assuming you say yes._

What was she thinking?

Of course, she would say yes.

"Ok. What time should I be ready by?"

"Around six. I'll come collect you."

"Can't wait."

Draco let the corner of his mouth twitch up into a ghost of a smile, then pushed off Hermione's office doorway and left.

The rest of his morning (and majority of the afternoon) was spent cataloguing a collection of Dark artifacts recovered from the Lestrange vaults. Rabastan, the last living family member, had died thirty-three days ago inside Azkaban. The Ministry waited the required thirty-one days for any family members to come forward and claim the property inside the vaults (four in total spread across Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rodolphus). But none did. After the waiting time expired, the vaults, and all their contents, were released to Gringotts. There were several small family keepsakes and a large quantity of gold that was listed in the will of Bellatrix and Rodolphus that went first to Rabastan as the next male heir, and then to Narcissa as the last living Black and direct family member of Bellatrix. Everything else was confiscated by the goblins.

Curse-breakers were employed to move any items carrying Dark spells and transport them over to the Ministry for analysis. It was now Draco's task to catalogue and remove these spells so the items could be handled by the goblins and placed within one of the three treasure vaults. He knew he was about to spend weeks on this, which was fine, since his team would be in Italy for the next three months.

Draco was not particularly keen on going through his late aunt's belongings, and decided to save those items for last. Instead he started with the collection from Rabastan's vault. One glance at the list of the contents told him he had made the wrong choice. This was going to take days.

The sheer volume kept him busy until well past when he normally would break for lunch. He received a memo (a purple one this time) around three in the afternoon from Hermione inquiring if he had eaten today. Draco chuckled. She must have come by at her usual time and found him eyebrows deep in cataloguing. He wrote a reply on the opposite side of the memo and sent it back across the department.

By five-thirty Draco was ready to quit. Only half the vault's contents were recorded, including the enchantments he would have to remove. He had not even begun to consider what spells he needed to neutralize the Dark curses on everything he'd seen today. Thankfully, Gringotts had set up a room to store the items from each vault while Draco was working on them. He simply needed to summon the next item as he banished the previous. He was able to summon up to three pieces at once and keep only one at a time in his office overnight.

Draco was perfectly fine with this. His office, while neat as a pin and not cluttered, was still rather small and cramped. He had two tall filing cabinets in one corner that he had inherited from Jenkins, two glass cabinets behind his desk where he kept his own collection of items, and locked away objects that he was currently removing curses from. A wide bookcase took up most of the remaining space on the wall in front of his desk. He had two chairs facing him for whomever decided to grace him with his or her presence, not that they were frequently occupied.

Draco glanced out his office door into the Goblin Liaison office. It was empty and quiet, and beyond that the Department proper was also quiet. Another glance at the clock on his desk told him it was now fifteen minutes to six. He had requested that Hermione be ready between five and six. If he lingered any longer he would be late, and there was no denying that his brain was scrambled at this point. He should just quit now.

Draco closed his notebook and put it away with the list for Rabastan's vault. He banished one of the two items on his desk and locked up the other, (a particularly beautiful orb made entirely of silver, inside which something else was concealed, he was sure) in the glass cabinet behind his desk under a stasis charm.

He was just straightening up his desk when he heard footsteps (more accurately the click of high heels) entering the Goblin Liaison office. He looked up just as Hermione appeared in the doorway. "You look ready to drop." She observed

"I am." Draco confirmed.

"We can do this another night." Hermione offered.

"No, I want to. I need to." Draco stood and began patting his pockets and waistcoat. "I just need to find my…" He began, and started lifting papers on his desk in search of his wand.

Hermione, figuring this was what he was seeking given that his sleeves were rolled up and the holster on his right wrist was empty, walked over to his desk and picked up his hawthorn wand from where it lay beside his journal. Draco rolled his eyes and took the wand from her. "Thanks, Granger." He snapped it into place in his holster and fixed the sleeves of his shirt.

"We match." Hermione noted as Draco pulled on a navy blue suit jacket over his shirt and waistcoat.

Draco looked down and, realizing she was right, chuckled quietly. "Yes, we do, indeed. What a picture we'll make." He shrugged a winter coat on for warmth and muttered, "Nox," causing the lights in his office to all turn out.

"Ready?" Hermione asked once Draco finished locking his office.

"Ready." He held out his elbow enough to indicate for Hermione to take it.

Which she did. Smiling brightly.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 12 - January 8, 2004

Draco lay in his bed the next morning staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, watching shadows move across it as the sun rose higher outside the closed curtains. It was still early, too early to get up, but he couldn't go back to sleep. His mind had woken before his body was ready to, and now refused to fall back under.

The last thing he could remember was lying down after he dropped Hermione at her flat. Before that he had taken her to a small pub that he had discovered within the first week of moving to London. So far, they served the best hot chocolate and sticky toffee pudding that he had found. Neither compared, of course, to the hot chocolate and pudding he had been served as a child, but this pub came damn close.

Hermione had been pleasantly surprised to discover the reason for visiting this pub. And even more excited when Draco divulged the menu options he had brought her there to share with him. As soon as both plates and mugs had been set down in front of them, Hermione dug in, waxing poetic over the rich, buttery pudding and creamy cocoa. Draco remembered the satisfied smile that graced her features as she licked chocolate from her upper lip.

 _Hermione set her mug down on the table and spooned another bite of pudding into her mouth. "This is delicious."_

" _It is. I'm glad you like it." Draco agreed, and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth._

" _Was this your favorite dessert growing up?" Hermione asked, eyeing Draco as he sipped his cocoa._

" _It was. Actually…" Draco paused. Hermione didn't know too much about his past. He considered for a moment if he should tell her. And how much._

 _She was also still unaware of the fact that he had been standing outside her office when she and Ron fought last week. He was curious, of course. He was a Slytherin. And Slytherins gathered information to use for their own benefit, whatever that benefit may be._

 _He wanted Hermione to know that she could confide in him. Not because he was trying to get information out of her. Because he felt that she needed someone on the outside of all that was happening in her life to talk to. Someone in a neutral position._

 _Draco needed that someone, too. And unless he opened up first, Hermione would probably never confide her deep, personal feelings to him. Was that his goal, though? Was this desire to provide support coming from sympathy he felt for Hermione? Or because they had somehow forged a kind of friendship in the preceding months?_

" _When I was growing up," Draco began again, "my parents fought quite often. Not violently, but there was always a lot of yelling. And as a child it frightened me. I didn't understand why my parents were so angry with each other. It woke me at night and I would go downstairs to the kitchen to sit by the fire. Our house elves kept it burning all night and it was bright and warm."_

 _Hermione felt her heart clench. Not because of the mention of house elves, but because Draco had grown up in that atmosphere. Having to listen to his parents yell and shout at each other. She reached across the table to lay her hand on his._

" _I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Draco."_

 _Draco shrugged. "I knew they weren't shouting in hate. I could tell that much. They were both honestly angry and frustrated. I didn't understand why until I was older. But, whenever I was woken up in the middle of the night by it, our house elves would always have a cup of cocoa for me and some sticky toffee pudding. I had several nice conversations with them." Draco smiled and spooned a bite of pudding into his mouth, then followed it with a sip of cocoa._

" _That's a lovely end, Draco. Even if it did have sad beginnings."_

" _I don't hate house elves. I never have. They raised me more than my own parents did at times. I was never cruel to them the way my father was. I couldn't be." Draco hung his head. He had invited Hermione out for a nice evening and comforting food, and he was sitting there lingering on old, miserable feelings._

 _Thankfully, Hermione picked up the reins of the conversation and they began to discuss books and favorite topics and theories. This morphed into the talk of food and Hermione promised to make good on her claim of excellent banana bread._

 _They walked back to their building side by side, as they had the last time they went out, except Hermione wrapped her hands around Draco's arm and leaned in to him for warmth. He could smell the sweet fragrance of her shampoo and feel the softness of her hair on his arm. He would be lying if he said the closeness of her body didn't make his heart beat a little bit faster._

 _When they arrived at Hermione's flat, she paused and turned to face him. "Thank you for tonight, Draco. I needed this."_

" _As did I." Draco agreed. "Life has been a bit…"_

" _Overwhelming." Hermione finished, understanding._

" _It has." Draco smiled briefly, and a brief awkward silence fell between them. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."_

" _Till then." Hermione leaned up and kissed his cheek, lingering when she felt how warm his skin was. Just as she began to pull back, Draco turned and pressed his mouth against hers._

 _Hermione let out a muffled sound of surprise, but found herself melting against Draco's body as his arms wrapped around her back and pressed her closer. Draco pulled back first this time, eyes still closed. He blinked them open to find Hermione's still closed as well, her expression one of peace and content. He would even go as far to say that she enjoyed it. Hermione blinked her eyes open seconds after Draco did, and gazed up at him. Pink filled her cheeks as the corners of her mouth turned up in an embarrassed smile._

" _Well, that was unexpected." Hermione whispered._

" _I'm sorry. I…"_

 _Hermione pressed her index finger to his mouth to silence him. "I'm not complaining."_

 _Draco felt his eyes widen in understanding. So, she_ had _enjoyed it._

" _Good." He whispered back as Hermione removed her finger from his lips._

" _Good night, Draco." She turned to her door, stopping just inside to wave briefly, and then disappeared behind it._

Draco turned on his side to check the clock on his nightstand, It flashed 5:30 AM at him. He rolled onto his back with a groan. Still too early to get up. He touched his lips where Hermione had pressed her finger last night after their kiss. He swore they still tingled. He had enjoyed the kiss as well, and that didn't surprise him as much as he had been expecting. Draco had already admitted to himself, (several times in fact), that he was attracted to the muggle-born witch. She was intelligent, witty, sharp as a new quill…And her looks were nothing to complain about either.

To him they never had been. Well, at least since Fourth year. And only because he had been too blind to notice until then. He had been attracted to her fierce determination and obvious intelligence in First year. She had been a tough witch to compete with. Her never ending streak of high scores had impressed him. The only reason he never acted on any of this while in school had been sheer cowardice. The things his father would have said to him had Lucius Malfoy found out his son was crushing on a muggle-born witch.

Even now he hadn't made the first move. She had.

Hermione continued to make the first move until yesterday when _he_ finally asked _her_ out.

And their date had gone better than he had hoped for. Draco couldn't describe what had come over him after stopping outside Hermione's door. He just suddenly needed to hold her. Kiss her. She had been soft and warm, and her lips sill carried a taste of toffee pudding and hot chocolate. He could tell she had been tentative to deepen the kiss, leaving the decision up to him. So, Draco had taken it.

Not only had the kiss felt good, (and left him more than a little hard), _she_ had felt good. She fit perfectly in his arms, and she had let him run his hands over her waist, hips, back and arms.

He slept more peacefully last night than he had in months. Their snog had given him a way of letting out some of his pent up sexual frustration. Now he had to figure out what this could mean for them. Would they continue to go out on more dates? Snog more? Snog on his couch maybe? Would they move it to the bedroom at some point?

Draco groaned and turned again. He wanted to let his mind wander. To finish their kiss from last night a different way. (Taking Hermione into her flat and shagging her senseless against the nearest flat surface would be ideal). But he couldn't let his mind go too far down that path. Their snog could have been a mistake, (a very nice mistake), but still something that may never be repeated between them again.

Would this change things between them at the Ministry? Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to think yes or no on that. It would be a relief if their current relationship was not affected, but if Hermione's attitude toward him changed even a little he wouldn't be surprised. He doubted Hermione would view him in a negative light now. Even so, Draco knew he wouldn't be able to handle that. Not from someone he had come to care for as much as he did.

His thoughts turned back to the night of the New Year's ball. He had never seen Hermione so affected like she had been by Lavender's words. He still had not confirmed or denied what he suspected had happened to her and Weasley. In conjunction with what he had overheard at the party, though, it was not difficult to surmise that Hermione had suffered a miscarriage. Even without her telling him directly and knowing for certain the knowledge still tugged at his heart and Draco felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her every time he saw her now.

But he suppressed it. He wasn't supposed to know about it, and he also was not about to admit that he had eavesdropped on the very personal conversation that she had been having. That would certainly change her attitude toward him, if nothing else did. He wasn't going to lie to himself and think that watching her walk away from that fight with Weasley hadn't made him panic. Not knowing where she was going, what she was thinking, or what she would do.

When he saw her again a few days later she seemed like the same Hermione. If Potter had caught up with her, whatever he did, said, or offered in assistance (if Hermione had taken any of it), had helped immensely. She smiled freely at him and eagerly accepted his invitation to go out last night.

That had been yesterday?

It felt like so long ago, and it was less than twenty-four hours.

He was thrilled that she wanted to go out with him. And also nervous. Because the joy that went through him when she said yes made him realize the path his feelings were going down. Surely, he wasn't falling in love with her Hermione Granger. He did care deeply about, no _for_ , her. Seeing her smile made him smile. Knowing she was upset made him upset. Draco didn't like it when she was hurting, and he craved her presence whenever she wasn't around.

Their lunchtime sessions together had become cathartic for him. It was the only time Draco spoke about his past and confided his fears, hopes, and desires. Well, until last night when he had told her about his house elves growing up. It felt good to talk to someone about it all. Draco knew he could trust Hermione, just like he knew he could trust no one else with all of the things he had told her in the past months.

However, he hadn't told her everything. He'd never brought up his father and the fact that Lucius Malfoy was currently lying in St. Mungo's close to death. He had recently been treated with muggle medicine to see if it would make a difference. By now, his body was so weak that it did not even process the medicine.

Draco sighed heavily and turned onto his side, facing his window, as his mind changed course. He began to consider what would happen should his father die. Would his mother want him to move back into the manor? He would inherit the Malfoy estates and be responsible for them and the family's finances. But Draco didn't know if this was something he was ready to take on.

Come June he would only be twenty-four. About the same age his father had been when he became Head of House. But that had been under different circumstances. Abraxas, Draco's paternal grandfather had been too old to continue in the responsibilities as Head of House and had passed it on to his son. He died a few years later from Dragon Pox, when Draco had been just a toddler. He barely remembered his grandfather. But the stories his mother told him gave him a pretty clear picture of the man Abraxas Malfoy had been.

If Lucius Malfoy did succumb to his illness, Draco realized, he may have no choice. It would be necessary for him to move back into the manor. As Head of House he would have to live there. Draco pushed the thought aside, along with what he would do with his London flat (keep it, obviously).

With a shake of his head, Draco finally rose to start his day. He showered, dressed and ate a buttered piece of toast as he stepped into his fireplace and Floo'd to the Ministry. After setting down his bag in his office he grabbed a cup of tea from the communal pot, hoping to see Hermione. But she had either been over for her tea already, or had not come in yet.

Draco returned to his office and set to work for the day. He still had two reports to finish and his final assessment of the next excavation to present tomorrow. The team would be leaving on Monday and he needed them all briefed and up to speed before they set out via Portkey. Around noon he began to feel the lack of sleep from the night before and his eyes crossed over to the cabinet in the corner of his office.

After a moment's contemplation, Draco got up and walked over to it, pulled open the glass door and took out one of the phials he kept in there. He pulled the cork off and downed the Invigoration Draught without thinking twice. He made the habit of keeping these and sleeping potions (just in case he stayed late and did not have the energy to go home). But he needed something right now to get him through the rest of the day. His mother had asked him to come to St. Mungo's and stay with her for a bit. Draco already knew he was going to be there most of the night. It would be easier to come back to the Ministry and make up a cot for himself then to go home and risk not getting up on time.

The stress of his father's condition had also been affecting his sleeping habits. There were many nights now where Draco lay awake lost in thought, or just tossing and turning. The days that followed those nights were the ones when he also forgot to eat. He would try so hard to distract himself with work that he barely thought about anything else. Draco knew, though, that he could not let these habits continue indefinitely.

He had just returned the empty phial to the cabinet and shut the door when a knock on his office door made him turn. Hermione stood there, lovely as ever in a chocolate brown dress that stopped just above her knee. She wore her Ministry robes over it, but Draco could tell it hugged her curves in a very flattering way. She wore cream-colored heels and no jewelry. A simple palette today. One glance at his own wardrobe choice told him they matched, a bit.

He had chosen a dark brown suit with an off-white button down, and golden yellow-colored tie. His own Ministry robes hung on the coat rack behind his desk. He never bothered with them, unless he had to.

"Afternoon." Hermione smiled at him. "Lunch?"

"Um…in a bit?" Draco asked, finding his voice again.

"Ok. I had a question first anyway." Hermione walked in and Draco noticed the letter she was carrying in her hand. "This is what I was telling you about. I had completely forgotten about it until I was going through my notes this morning and found it. Would you still be able to translate for me?" She asked.

"S…sure." Draco stammered a bit, but recovered and walked back over to his desk. Hermione handed him the letter as he sat down and, after locating them underneath his journal, slipped his spectacles on. He watched Hermione smooth the back of her dress and her robes as she sat down in front of his desk. She crossed her ankles and waited for him to start.

"The Irish goblins are asking after your progress on the property in question. They are insisting on a determination soon. They state that their claim to the lost property should not even be in question and that they have to wait at all is an insult." Draco put the letter down and pulled his spectacles off.

Hermione sighed heavily. "I figured as much. The case is stuck right now in deliberation between the Irish and Scottish representatives."

"So, tell these goblins the truth. Just be honest."

"I don't think that's going to be enough for them." She stood from the chair and collected the letter as Draco handed it to her. "Thank you."

"Any time, Granger." Draco tried to smile, but thought it came out as a sneer. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria in a bit."

"Oh, right." Hermione blinked a few times as though coming out of a trance and nodded at him. "See you in a bit."

She turned to leave, and just as she opened his office door, Draco stood. "Hermione," he called, and she turned back to him. "I had a really good time last night."

"I did, too."

"Well, if you would like to…I'd love the privilege of cooking for you myself. At my flat."

"Are you asking me over, Draco?" Hermione's smile was coy.

"Yes, I think I am."

"Then I accept."

"Brilliant. Tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night." Hermione confirmed. She smiled over her shoulder once more and shut his office door as she left.

Draco slumped back into his chair and let out a breath. That had been easier than he thought. A slow smile crept across his face as he realized he had just successfully asked Hermione Granger out for a second date. And at his flat, no less. He had blurted out the invitation before he had the chance to fully develop a plan in his mind.

He could cook, yes. But what would he prepare for Granger? He knew some of her likes and dislikes. But not all. He wanted to be able to surprise her, and if he asked her what she preferred that plan of action went out the window completely.

"Oh, Draco, you fool." He cursed himself as he let his head fall on to his desk. "What were you thinking?"

There was no use feeling bad about it. Not when the fact that she had said yes, again, made him feel so empowered. "You just need to be creative. She likes that. She likes originality."

Draco picked his head up and shuffled some papers around on his desk before finding his journal. He grabbed a quill and began jotting down a list of groceries he would need to find time to purchase in Diagon Alley within the next twenty-four hours. Hen then stuffed the journal into his satchel (so it wouldn't go missing again) and pulled his report back in front of him, determined to finalize it.

His renewed vigor, he told himself, burgeoned by the Invigoration Draught, and nothing to do whatsoever with the idea of Hermione Granger having dinner with him tomorrow night.

No, nothing at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: Hi everyone! (ducks for cover). Um, hi. Been a while. Words can not express how awful I feel leaving you all hanging for so long. I've been beyond frustrated with myself over this. I have ideas, so many ideas. And when I would get home at night the last thing I wanted to do was sit down in front of another computer for hours after spending the entire day in front of one. I promise I have been working on these stories all these months, plus a few new ones as well. (Back to the ideas, SO MANY IDEAS). The words are coming at a literal trickle. And just when I thought I was getting over my writer's block. LIFE. I started trying to find hands-on experience in my chosen field and THOUGHT I found a great job that I could build into a career...and then I lost it. With no explanation. So I'm back to square-1 there. Other personal things have been going on as well, taking their toll as the months have gone by, but I am working through everything and finally starting to feel like a human being again. (Anime has helped, A LOT).**

 **Triggers: Intense emotional scene - I won't say anymore because spoilers. But have tissues ready just in case.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

Chapter 13 – January 9, 2004

Draco pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open to check the time. Half past six. Good. He stowed the timepiece back in his waistcoat pocket and gave the broth he was cooking on the stove a few stirs. He was making good time. Hermione was due to arrive at his flat in an hour. All he had left to do was steam the mussels and warm up the bread. Of course, Draco could just wave his wand and make all of this happen instantaneously. And perhaps next time he would. But he was proud for having learned to cook in the muggle manner and wanted to make everything from scratch for Hermione.

She would appreciate it, he was sure.

With only thirty minutes to go, Draco opened the white wine he had chosen to let it breathe, and set the table. For this he used magic, summoning plates and bowls from the cabinet to levitate gently onto the breakfast counter. Fifteen minutes to go, and he added the mussels to the broth. It smelled heavenly to him. Almost exactly as he remembered it from the first time he had had the dish.

At twenty-five past seven he heard his Floor alarm chime and cursed quietly. Hermione was early, of course. Draco grinned to himself and turned the flame off on his stove before he dashed to his hall mirror to check his appearance. He ran his fingers through his blonde locks a few times and tugged on his waistcoat to straighten it. His Floo chimed again and Draco rushed to answer it before Hermione spun into existence inside a blocked fireplace. He kept his Floo off while at work, and sometimes never remembered to turn it back on again.

"I was starting to think you had forgotten." Hermione stated as she stepped into his living room.

Draco smiled, nervous, and took her hand to help her from the grate. "I was in the kitchen."

"It smells delicious. I can't wait, I'm famished."

"Well, it's ready."

Hermione beamed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. She smiled as she pulled back, feeling the heat in his skin. Draco blushed lightly under her touch, cursing his traitorous emotions. He managed another smile and gestured for Hermione to lead the way into the kitchen. Upon seeing that he had set the breakfast counter for two instead of the dining table she felt much more at ease, but also anxious. This set up was more intimate.

Draco pulled out one of the bar seats and pushed it back in after Hermione settled herself. He poured her a glass of the wine and she sat and watched as he served two bowls and carried them over. "Mussels and garlic broth." He explained, placing a bowl in front of her.

"It smells incredible." Hermione bent over the offering and inhaled deeply. "Goddess, does it ever."

Draco turned to retrieve the bread and smiled to himself. Mission accomplished.

Hermione continued to wax poetic over the meal as they tucked in. Draco told her the story behind it. He had been on a Portkey stopover in Paris with Jenkins and they went out to eat, having hours before their next trip back to England. It had been the day before his probationary hearing and his mentor was trying to put him at ease. Draco had learned in that year not to take anything for granted. Including food. So, being treated to a nice meal was not something he took lightly. He savored every bite, committed it all to memory.

"I'm very thankful you did so." Hermione smiled around her spoon as she sipped the delectable broth. "I could bathe in this."

Draco laughed and sipped his wine. "That's how I felt the first time I ate it. I drank every drop from the bowl."

"Does that mean you wouldn't be offended by my atrocious table manners if I do the same?"

Draco gestured at her bowl magnanimously, "Please, have at it."

Hermione scooped up her last bite of mussel meat, then set her spoon down and picked up the bowl with both hands. Draco followed suite, and together they drained their dishware. Hermione slurped a bit at the end. Her cheeks pinked, but they both began to laugh as Draco slurped the last bit from his bowl as well, loudly.

He politely refused her offer to help clean up, refilled her wine glass and directed her to the sitting area. Draco levitated all the dishes into the sink and filled it with hot, soapy water to let them soak. Hermione, as he had expected, was perusing his bookshelves as she sipped her wine. The fingers of her free hand roamed over the spines as she moved along the walls, eyes taking in the titles and topics he had collected over the years.

"Very extensive and eclectic."

"My interests vary widely." Draco nodded around the room as he entered. "You can borrow whatever you like any time you wish." He offered as Hermione paused overlong at one title.

"I may take you up on that." She affirmed, returning the book to its place on the shelf.

Draco crossed the room to her and glanced at the title. _Curses of Kings: Fact or Fiction?_ It was one of his favorites, and one he frequently referenced when preparing for a trip to Egypt.

"Would you like to sit?" Draco offered, gesturing at the coach. Hermione nodded and followed him. She toed off her heels and folded her legs underneath her as she settled against the cushions. Draco relaxed a bit as she got comfortable, watching as her gaze lifted to him.

"You, too." Hermione beckoned. She patted the spot next to her and leaned forward to set her glass on the table.

Draco took the seat beside her and watched as she sat back again. She looked completely at ease, meanwhile he was a ball of nerves.

"Why are you so anxious?" Hermione asked, tilting her head sideways to lay against the back of the couch.

"Because you're here." Draco admitted. He turned a little, so he was facing her. "It's a bit unnerving."

"Why?" Hermione reached for his hand. "It's just us."

"That's it, though. It's us, in my flat. Alone."

"Anything could happen." Hermione waggled her eyebrows at him and Draco flushed.

Hermione chuckled quietly and reached for her glass draining the rest of the wine from it. "Do I make you nervous?"

"Just a bit. I don't know what to expect."

"The unexpected." Hermione stated in a whisper. "Always." She flashed Draco a grin, delighted when he smiled back.

She was even more delighted when Draco leaned in, pressing his mouth against hers in a fierce and determined kiss. She relaxed beneath him almost immediately, lying back against one of the throw pillows. Draco's hand traveled up the side of her leg, pushing her skirt up so that she had the freedom to part her knees slightly and make room for him.

He was insistent in his pursuit, swiping his tongue along the seam of her lips seeking entrance. Hermione granted it after a few moments of probing, thrilled with the gasp that escaped him as she immediately swirled her tongue around his. Draco pushed his hips against hers with a grunt, rubbing a particularly large bulge into her center.

Hermione smiled and grabbed his face, pushing her fingers back through his hair. She was more than happy to let this continue. See where it may lead. It was no secret she was attracted to him. And it was gratifying to know Draco was just as affected. Now they just needed to let go.

Hermione reached up and unbuttoned Draco's shirt. She began to pull it free from his trousers to finish…and then the Floo rang out.

Draco and Hermione broke apart, panting and staring at the flames that erupted in the grate. They only just managed to break apart and right their respective clothing as Narcissa stepped from the fireplace. She was startled at first to see that her son had company, but quickly adjusted her features and faced Draco.

Draco was immediately on his feet upon seeing the devastation on his mother's face. "What's wrong?" He asked, taking her hands in both of his.

"Your father." Narcissa whispered. "You should come and say goodbye. I believe this may be his last night."

Draco sucked in a breath. As did Hermione. He looked over his shoulder at her. She was already standing and looking around, uncomfortable. The amorous energy between them was gone, like ice water had been dumped on them both.

"Don't go." Draco requested when he saw her reach for her shoes, panic in his voice.

"Draco, I don't think…" Narcissa began. But Draco interrupted.

"I need her." He said firmly, shocking both his mother and himself.

Narcissa nodded and dropped her son's hands. "I'll see you in a moment." She kissed his forehead and walked back through the flames to St. Mungo's.

"Draco, I shouldn't." Hermione insisted. "It's not my place."

Draco walked back over to the couch, grabbed Hermione's face between his hands and kissed her. "I wasn't lying. I _do_ need you. Please don't make me do this alone."

Hermione reached up to touch both of his hands. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she nodded.

"Thank you." Draco breathed. He took her hand and guided her over to the fireplace. "Together." They stepped into the large grate and he called out St. Mungo's.

Together they spun amongst the emerald flames, tucked in tight against each other. Draco held her waist, gazing over Hermione's shoulder at the grates that flew past them. Finally, he caught site of his mother and he turned them so the next moment they were stepping together from the green flames of the visitor's fireplace at St. Mungo's.

Narcissa did not look pleased to see Hermione follow behind her son but said nothing. She led the way through the halls and up the stairs to a locked ward. The Aurors stepped aside to let her enter. They stopped Draco and Hermione. Draco presented his wand and began to walk through. He paused and turned when he realized Hermione was not coming in behind him.

"This really isn't my place, Draco. I'll wait out here."

Draco let out a deep breath. He didn't want to go in there without her beside him, but realized she was right. He nodded at her and followed his mother into the ward. Narcissa led the way to a curtained-off bed in the corner. Lucius had been moved since the last time Draco was here. His new bed allowed for more privacy. Not that there were many visitors with prying eyes in this ward.

Narcissa paused behind her son and placed her hands on his shoulders. "He's asleep, Draco." She whispered to him. "He doesn't even know you're here right now."

Draco felt a tremor slip down his spine and into the tips of his fingers. Narcissa squeezed his shoulders in support. "What does he look like?"

"A shell." Narcissa's voice broke as she uttered the word. It had been weeks since Draco visited. And even then, he could tell his father was not long for the mortal coil.

"I don't know what to say." Draco admitted. He couldn't even move, frozen where he stood at the side of his father's deathbed.

"You don't have to say anything. If you don't want to. _I_ wanted you to have the opportunity to say goodbye."

Draco straightened his spine and stepped forward. He slowly pulled back the curtain around the bed and gazed down at his father. His breath left him in a whoosh. His mother had not been exaggerating. Lucius Malfoy lay before him exactly as she had described. A shell of his former self. His kin held the sickly gray pallor of near death. He didn't appear to be breathing, but as Draco's eyes moved over his father's body he detected the shallow, uneven breaths that quietly left him. Expecting each one to be the last.

He opened his mouth to speak. And shut it immediately. The words he had been about to speak died on his lips. What do you say to a man that gave his only son to a dark wizard just to keep himself out of prison? Draco didn't know if that was the truth behind his induction into the Death Eaters, but it was what he told himself when his mother refused to talk about the circumstances of those few weeks following the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Draco tried to come up with something to say. But his mind remained blank. Instead, anger started to course through him. He pulled the curtain closed and turned to leave. His mother stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, her face set in a deep frown.

"I can't." Draco muttered.

"I'm sorry." Narcissa whispered back.

Draco nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll be outside."

He left the wing, pleased to find Hermione right where she said she would be. She stood upon seeing him walk out the doors. She wrung her hands in front of her as he walked over, taking in his expression.

"Is he…?" She started.

Draco shook his head. "Not yet. But soon."

"I'm so sorry, Draco." Hermione leaned forward and hugged him.

Draco wrapped both his arms around her and hugged her back. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. "What does it say about me as a person…" He began, leaning back to look at her, "That I'm not?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer him. She reached up and brushed a piece of blonde hair off his forehead. His gray eyes stared down into hers for a long moment, seeking an answer perhaps? Then he leaned down and kissed her softly. Hermione barely pressed back but gave him enough pressure to let Draco know she was participating.

They parted just as the doors to the ward opened. Narcissa walked out supported by a Healer with an arm around her waist. She raised her head to look for her son and saw him standing with the muggle-born girl in his arms. Narcissa did not have the energy to react, only to allow a single tear to fall down her cheek.

Hermione immediately let go of Draco and stepped back. It took Draco another moment to register what had happened. He then crossed the waiting area to his mother and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"He's gone." Narcissa whispered to her son. Even though her voice was barely a whisper, it still broke on those two words.

Draco didn't say anything. He just hugged his mother tighter.

Neither of them noticed Hermione quietly leaving the ward to give them privacy. She wandered back to the main entrance and took a seat by the fireplace. She had only been sitting there for a few minutes when she heard a familiar laugh from the across the entry. Hermione looked up to see Ron and Lavender walking down the hall. Lavender was smiling, one hand pressed to her slightly swollen belly. Hermione noticed that she was not trying to hide it as much as she had been at the New Year's Ball. Hermione turned away, ignoring them. She considered getting up and returning to her flat, but Draco had said he needed her here. She wasn't going to abandon him. Not tonight.

She reached for one of the outdated magazines on the table in front of her and started to flip through it. Lavender's voice drifted closer behind her and Hermione went on ignoring them. She was startled from her musings by the sound of someone crashing down the stairs. She looked over to see Draco rushing down the last flight and over to her, a look of fear on his face.

He didn't even see Ron and Lavender as he flew past them. Hermione stood just in time to be swept up into Draco's arms in a tight hug. "I thought you left." He whispered.

"I'm right here." Hermione whispered back.

Draco let her go just enough to stare down into her eyes. He smiled softly then leaned down and kissed her. Hermione let her eyes drift close. But not before she saw Ron several feet away, staring with his mouth hanging open. Lavender had a similar expression on her face.

When she and Draco broke apart, Ron and Lavender were gone. Standing in their place, however, was Narcissa Malfoy. She looked the two young adults in front of her up and down but said nothing. At least not until she approached them a moment later.

"I'm going back to the manor, Draco. Will you come by in the morning?"

"Yes, mother. First thing." Draco promised.

"I'll see you in the morning." Narcissa reached for her son and Draco broke from Hermione so that he could embrace his mother. Hermione watched Narcissa stoke the back of Draco's head. It was obvious she loved her son. Very much so. The look in her eyes when the two pulled back was nothing short of the deepest loss Hermione had ever seen. But at the same time, the deepest affection.

Narcissa touched Draco's cheek and leaned up to kiss the same spot. "Try and rest tonight." She told her son. Her gaze slid over his shoulder to Hermione, and she felt herself freeze under the woman's stare. "It was nice to see you, Miss Granger."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione whispered.

The pureblood woman nodded in acknowledgement and thanks and turned to go. "First thing in the morning, Draco." She reminded her son.

"Yes, mother." Draco answered.

Narcissa disappeared a few moments later among the green flames after indicating her destination of Malfoy Manor.

"I guess that means bedtime for you." Hermione joked quietly.

Draco turned back to her and held out his hand. "Come back with me. I don't want to be alone tonight."

Hermione stared down at his proffered hand. "I don't think…"

" _Don't_ think about it." Draco shook his head. "Just take my hand. Please."

His voice was pleading, but not so far as begging. Hermione reached out slowly and slipped her fingers through Draco's. His responding smile was small and sad, but a look of relief came over his face and he let out a breath, guiding Hermione over to the Floo.

* * *

 **Note: Hate me, don't hate me. Personally, I think Lucius Malfoy is a very complex character, and I truly struggled with what I was going to do with him in this story. While I hate character death, I tend to avoid it in stories if I can, I think I chose the best path for Draco this way. Let me know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes: Chapter contains sexual content. Please skip if sensitive.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

Chapter 14 – January 9-10, 2004

Hermione followed Draco through the fireplace back into his flat, watching with concern as he slumped onto the couch, dropping his head into his hands. She remained standing on the other side of the low table between them rubbing at her arm. It was difficult to remain still with how thick the air felt around them. Draco didn't move for almost two minutes (Hermione was counting the seconds in her head) and when he did, it was to let out a long, deep breath. And then his shoulders began to shake, followed by a soft cry. Hermione felt her eyes widen as she took in the image and crossed the room.

She sat down slowly beside Draco on the couch and reached her hand out to rub his back, unsure of what else to do. Draco flinched, not expecting the contact, but relaxed after a moment and inched closer to Hermione so she could wrap her arm around his back. After several minutes his sobs began to lessen, and his shoulders stilled. Hermione moved her hand to her lap as Draco raised his head, swiping his thumb under his eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He whispered.

"Why? It takes a lot of courage to show your true feelings, Draco. Don't be sorry."

"That's not it." Draco sighed. "I was raised to never show weakness. Especially like this. And especially in front of a woman. It's indecent." Draco said the last two words in a mocking voice, very like Narcissa's.

Hermione was sure it was his mother who taught him that it was improper, and his father that it was weakness.

"I feel safe with you." Draco admitted. He raised his gray eyes, still glassy, to Hermione's brown ones, and attempted to smile. It wobbled and quickly faded before there was even a chance for the corners of his mouth to lift. "I can be myself with you and not worry about what you'll say or think."

Hermione was floored. She already knew Draco felt confident enough to speak his mind around her. She had no idea that he also felt _safe_. That he _trusted_ her. Speechless, she reached over and took his hand where it lay in his lap and held it between hers. There were so many things she wanted to say, to ask. But none of them seemed appropriate. They sat in silence as Draco breathed in and out. He was hyper-aware of Hermione's hands around his own. His fingers flexed, tightening, loosening, and tightening again. As though he needed to remind himself that she was still sitting there beside him. That he hadn't scared her off yet. Draco stared at the rug under his feet, his eyes blurring in and out as he tried to pick out the patterns in the expensive Persian.

"You should get some rest." Hermione said quietly, finally breaking the silence. She shifted and Draco's grip on her hand tightened significantly.

"Don't go." He tore his eyes from the floor and gazed at her. Hermione wasn't sure if she was seeing fear, desperation, or even anxiety. Maybe it was all three. She settled beside him and Draco visibly relaxed.

"I'm not going anywhere." Hermione promised.

"I don't deserve this." Draco muttered a moment later.

"Don't deserve what? My being here? Don't be ridiculous, Draco. You asked me to stay with you and I will. Even if you didn't want me here, I would still stay. I'm not leaving you alone after what has happened tonight."

Draco looked up again at those words to find Hermione's eyes were waiting for his. He saw the truth in them at once, and leaned in, unable to stop himself. He reached for Hermione beside him, his hands finding her waist, and drew her closer. One hand moved up to hold the back of her neck and thread into her hair. His fingers massaged her scalp, kneading away the tension he felt in her body. Hermione melted against him for several moments. But then something made her stop and she pulled back.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"What?"

"This. Us. Right now. I mean, you just lost your father."

"If you think you're taking advantage of me, then you're mistaken."

That had been one thought. But what was really troubling her was that she didn't know if this was the right thing to do. Was it just reactionary? She knew Draco was attracted to her, their brief snog earlier in the evening had proven that.

At that moment she would have been more than willing. What concerned her now was that Draco wanted to bury his feelings. He wanted to hide from the emotions that threatened to spill over and consume him. She wasn't against the idea. But she did not want to be a crutch either.

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

"I know that. I'm questioning..."

"My motives?" Draco interjected. Hermione nodded, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment. "I can assure you I'm thinking clearly. And that there is nothing I want more right now than you." To emphasize his point, Draco leaned in and kissed her softly this time. "Stay with me, please?"

"If that's what you need."

"I need _you_." He stood from the couch and offered his hand.

Hermione took it and let herself be pulled to her feet. Draco captured her in another kiss, backing her slowly towards the nearest wall. "Wait," Hermione broke from him again. "I really don't think we should do this. Not under these circumstances. I know you say you're thinking clearly…but Draco…I know you. And you never let your emotions show if you can help it. Only minutes ago you were breaking down."

Draco let out a breath. "I don't know a way I can prove this to you, Hermione. You're right. I _don't_ like to let my emotions show."

"I understand that. And if I stay, how are you going to deal with your grief when I leave in the morning? You can't just run away from it. Or pretend it doesn't exist. And don't tell me you're pushing it down for my benefit."

Draco took her hand and pressed it against his chest so that she could feel the rhythm of his heart. It wasn't slow. "I'm not asking for a commitment. Just tonight. And not because I want to forget. Because I need to remember."

"And how exactly will I help with that?"

"By keeping my emotions on the surface. I can't hide from them when they are right in front of me."

Hermione thought that over as her fingers toyed with the first button on Draco's shirt. "What will this mean for us after tonight?"

Draco leaned in as though he were going to kiss her again, but he brought his mouth up against her ear and whispered, "I guess we'll see in the morning." He pulled back. "If you still want to stay."

"I'll stay. Because I want to."

Draco felt the corners of his mouth pull up. He leaned in again, kissing her this time. Hermione kissed back, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. Draco broke the embrace first and offered Hermione his hand again. She took it and let him lead her down the hall toward the last door on the left.

Hermione walked in first, watching as unseen lights turned on around the room. Draco's décor was simple but tasteful. Hardwood furniture stained either dark grey or black set against blue painted walls. His bedspread was varying shades of blue and grey. Long ivory colored curtains hung from a silver bar above the floor-to-ceiling windows across from the bed. They rippled from a light breeze coming into the room, the bottom fluttering inward and swaying back toward the window.

"You look surprised." Draco commented, watching Hermione take in her surroundings.

"I am." She turned back to him. "There is a surprising lack of green in here."

Draco smirked wryly and glanced around the room as well. "I didn't find it necessary."

"Hm," Hermione hummed and returned to her perusal.

There was an overall lack of clutter and personal items scattered around. Hermione spotted a silver pocket watch on one nightstand (the side of the bed Draco obviously slept on), propped open and ticking away. A lamp adorned each stand, both on but dim. Atop the dresser were two framed wizard photographs. The one in front was of Draco and, Hermione assumed, his fellow curse-breakers on an expedition. He didn't look much different in the picture than he did now, so it must have been from the past few years. Draco stood at the back, hands clasped behind him, a solemn expression on his face. Beside him was a taller man Hermione guessed was his mentor and predecessor, Jenkins. Around them was a team of five other curse-breakers, all smiling and laughing. Even Jenkins was grinning. But Draco just stared straight ahead. The group stood against a back drop of an open tomb, and beyond that a tall mountain.

The picture behind it was one she knew. A much younger Narcissa Malfoy stood at the edge of a duck pond, a tiny blonde-haired boy hanging onto her hand as he threw something into the pond. Draco's small face turned toward her, as did Narcissa's, and they both smiled and waved. The picture returned to the moment where Draco was throwing something into the pond and then he and his mother both turned and smiled again.

"Who took this one?" She asked, picking up the elaborate silver frame the picture was displayed in.

"My father, actually." Draco sighed behind her, reaching for the frame in her hand. Hermione turned sympathetic eyes to him. "I don't even remember this day. But I've had this picture for as long as I can recall. It comes with me everywhere I go."

Hermione watched Draco stare at the picture, a wistful expression on his face. He replaced the picture to its spot on his dresser and turned to her. "Draco," She began, "If you aren't sure…" But her words were cut off as Draco's mouth closed over hers. He kissed her firmly, but without haste. One hand snaked around her back and gripped at the material of her blouse, crushing it in his fist. His other hand clutched her hip, fingertips digging into her skin.

Hermione tensed up at first, not ready for the embrace when it happened. But Draco's soft lips coaxed her into a more relaxed state, physically and mentally, and she melted into him. Her arms reached up and around his neck. The fingers of her right hand buried themselves in his blonde hair, tugging softly.

Draco grunted into her mouth, liking the sensation. He pressed Hermione closer to him with the hand on her back and pushed his hips forward at the same time. Hermione gasped, as he had expected, at the bulge against her stomach. Draco took the opportunity to deepen the kiss between them. He probed the inside of her mouth with a tentative swipe of his tongue, pleased when she probed back, pushing her body further against his.

They broke apart breathing heavily, staring into each other eyes. Hermione leaned up and kissed his jaw, working her way to the other side as her fingers made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. Draco let her push the garment off his shoulders leaving him bare from the waist up. Hermione took a moment to appreciate the site before her. Where she had expected pale skin and a skinny torso, Draco was lightly tanned, his muscles cut and clearly defined. Her fingers found the V at his hips and she ran them lightly over the indentations.

To his surprise, Draco shivered under her touch. His muscles quivered on contact, the vibration going through his entire body. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him. "How long has it been since you were with a witch?"

"It's been some time." Draco answered honestly, blushing. He managed a small, embarrassed smile.

Hermione leaned up and kissed him lightly. "We can go slow." She promised.

"I would like that." Draco smiled briefly against her lips before initiating the next kiss. This time he backed Hermione toward his bed as he unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it down her arms. His hands fell back to her hips and stroked the exposed skin. His fingers slowly made their way around to her lower back where he pulled down the zipper of her skirt.

It hung loosely on her hips for a few minutes as Hermione divested him of his trousers and he slipped off his shoes and socks. Hermione stepped out of her heels and lowered her skirt, adding it to the pile of clothes around them. Draco took in her matching bra and knickers as she stood back up. Cream-colored lace that was almost sheer enough to see through.

Hermione began to reach behind her back to unhook her bra, but Draco put his hands up to stop her. Hermione paused, watching (warily, Draco noticed) as he closed the space between them. "Let me." Draco offered. "Turn."

Hermione turned, pulling her hair over one shoulder, silently granting him access to her personal space. Draco reached out, noticing the tremor in his hands and prayed Hermione didn't feel it as he slipped the hook apart and brushed the straps down her arms. The garment hit his bedroom floor with a muted sound of fabric against carpet. Hermione started to turn back around but Draco stopped her with his hands on her waist. "Stay." He breathed the word into her ear and squeezed her waist.

The shiver that went down Hermione's body gave him pause, but she didn't object. Draco smiled and leaned in to place a light kiss below her ear. He waited to see her reaction (a deep sigh that sounded as though it originated in her toes) and he kissed the skin just to the left of the previous spot. Draco kept one hand on her hip and began to slowly trail the other up her body. His mouth moved down her neck in conjunction and across her shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses behind.

Hermione shivered again, her breath hitching as his fingers skimmed the underside of her left breast. Draco sighed out loud when he felt the softness of her skin and cupped her breast in his hand. Hermione moaned this time, her chest heaving, pushing her breast further into Draco's hand.

Draco moved his mouth to her other shoulder and began to suck a mark into her skin. Hermione was panting when he drew back, his hand still molding around her breast, squeezing. Draco ran his thumb over her nipple, making Hermione cry out. Her hips flexed under his hand trying to find friction. Draco let her go completely and turned her around.

Hermione's cheeks were pink with heat, her pupils slightly dilated, and (Draco noticed with a smug smile) her breasts were heaving, nipples a dusky pink. He moved his hands slowly down her hips to the waistband of her knickers, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione nodded, giving him permission once more. Draco slipped his hands past the elastic and pushed the material down. Hermione dipped to remove her last piece of clothing and stood to find that Draco had also removed his last remaining article as well.

They stood staring at each other for several moments, an awkward silence descending until Hermione offered her hand out for Draco to take. He reached for it hesitantly. As soon as his fingers lay in hers all the tension went out of his body. He pulled Hermione over to the side of his bed and sat down, drawing her into his lap. They both squirmed as his erection rubbed her belly. Draco let his head fall back a little, moaning softly. He fell to his back, taking Hermione with him. They rolled and shifted on the bed until Hermione was propped against his pillows and Draco hovered over her.

He supported himself on his hands and knees, gazing down at the witch beneath him, her cinnamon-colored curls fanned out in a soft halo. He watched as her blush began to warm her cheeks again and creep up past her temples. Hermione covered her face with her hands for a moment, mortified for some reason she could not place.

Draco drew her hands down, clasping them in his own. He pulled them over her head and squeezed. Hermione squeezed back, taking a moment to look down the length of their bodies between them. She spread her knees to make room for Draco and he reached down to position the head of his erection at her entrance. He grasped Hermione's hand again and pinned it above her head, then began to push in. Hermione parted her knees more the further he sank, opening herself up. Draco grunted as she shifted beneath him. Every time she moved her muscles squeezed, creating a vice around his length. He pushed in harder, bringing his hips flush with Hermione's once he was fully inside. She keened beneath him, arching her back. Her knees squeezed his hips and her legs wrapped reflexively around his waist, heels dug into the small of his back, pushing him deeper still.

Draco pulled halfway out and sunk back in, fitting like a jigsaw piece against her body. Hermione arched her back slightly as he slid back inside, meeting him halfway. Draco let her hands go and sunk down to his elbows. He moved a little faster, a little harder. Hermione met him each time. Her arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into his skin.

He hissed at the bite, and Hermione paused. "I'm sorry." She panted.

"No, I liked it." Draco admitted. Hermione smiled and dragged her nails down his spine, softer this time. Slower. Draco pushed into her with a grunt and lowered his body even closer to hers. He slowed as he closed the space between them and felt Hermione lock her feet on his lower back, limiting his motion. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, drawing out as far as he could before he thrust back in. Her body let him go and accepted him back eagerly. It was like being wrapped in satin warmed by the sun. Every inch of her skin against his tingled.

"Is this what making love is supposed to be?" He asked as their bodies continued to move together.

Hermione felt her brows draw together in confusion. "I thought you said you've done this before."

"I have. But not like this."

Hermione smiled and swallowed thickly. _How long has it really been for him?_ she thought. She leaned up and kissed Draco and he responded enthusiastically. "Sit up." She requested when they parted.

Draco stopped moving for a minute to sit up, bringing Hermione with him. He slipped out of her, immediately wanting for the tight feel of her wrapped back around him. Hermione settled in his lap, gripping his length in her hand and slid down until she was fully seated. Draco gasped and made a sound in his chest that was almost a growl.

"Now lay back." She asked next. Draco did, lowering to his back so his head was at the foot of the bed. Hermione reached for his hands and pinned them down with her own. "When was the last time a witch rode you?" She asked already bucking her hips forward at a slow pace.

"Never like this." He answered with a grin.

Hermione kissed him until they were both choking for air. "Good." She smiled against his mouth. She sat up and let go of his hands, placing them on her waist. She continued to move over him at her own pace but adapted to what he needed from her. Draco squeezed when he wanted her to ride him harder or faster and loosened his grip when he needed her to slow. One hand fell to squeeze her thigh and he left it there. Hermione seemed to like it, especially when he gripped her, and the tips of his blunt nails just barely dug into her skin.

It didn't take long for either of them to feel the build up towards release. Hermione's movements became a little more frantic, more focused on the friction between their bodies. Draco pumped upwards with more concentration, trying to meet her downward thrust. Hermione bent forward, supporting herself on her arms and pushed down so that Draco was fully inside her and moved her hips forward. He barely moved in and out of her now, her body squeezing his like a vice. He was so close.

Hermione leaned down and kissed Draco desperately. He reached between their bodies, finding the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex and pressed. Hermione pulled back from him crying out as her orgasm washed over her. She bucked wildly over him. Draco felt her muscles flutter and contract around his cock and then his world exploded.

When he could see, and breathe, and think again, Hermione was lying next to him. They were still joined, but she lay with half her body covering his, her chin propped on his chest. She smiled softly and reached up to brush a piece of hair out of his eyes. "Have you ever been told that you're beautiful?" She asked.

"Only by my mother." Draco propped himself up on his elbows. Hermione sat up halfway, supporting herself on her arm. "And only a few times in my life."

"I think you're beautiful."

Draco blushed and cast his eyes downward. He looked up when he felt Hermione shift. She sat back up across his body, spreading her thighs on either side of his hips. Draco relaxed back down, an amused smile lighting up his features. He held her waist softly, waiting for Hermione to move first. But she sat above him, petting his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm enjoying this moment."

Draco rubbed his hands up and down her sides and then down her thighs, resting his palms just above her knees. Hermione thought he was _beautiful_. Well, Draco thought, _she_ was exquisite. And he was determined to show her just how much he believed that.

~S~

They awoke a few hours later, tangled together at the end of Draco's bed. Hermione lay with her head on his chest, one arm draped across his torso. Draco had both arms wrapped around her, holding her against the side of his body. He opened his eyes first, taking in the sight of Hermione curled up on his chest, her head rising and falling as he breathed. He brushed her hair behind her ear so he could see her face more clearly. Hermione's eyes were shut, lids relaxed, breathing deeply. Little puffs of air ghosted over his skin as she exhaled. Draco laid his head back down and closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep.

Just as his brain began to drift back off he felt Hermione stir beside him and let out a soft moan. _So much for sleeping_ , Draco mused. Not that he was disappointed. Not in the least. She stretched and moaned again, eyes blinking slowly. Her face turned up toward his with a sleepy smile, and she breathed, "Hey,"

"Hey," Draco responded. Hermione tipped her face closer and Draco met her halfway. They kissed lazily for several seconds before Hermione snuggled her head on his chest again.

"Any idea what time it is?" She asked, looking up the length of the bed to where their feet twined together on the pillows.

"Close to dawn." Draco guessed. " _Finite_." He spoke quietly, and the muted lights around the room went out. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden dimness, but once he could see clearly again, Draco looked toward the window and the light coming in from underneath the curtains. There was not much, which made him think it wasn't as close to dawn as he first suspected.

"Still very early." Hermione corrected, following Draco's gaze.

"So it would seem." He started to sit up a little, pushing onto his elbows.

Hermione sat up as well, watching him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I need the loo."

The moment the word left his mouth, Hermione felt the undeniable urge as well. Draco graciously let her go first. The fact that he got to watch the sway of her hips was an added bonus as she crossed his room. Her figure was silhouetted in the doorway for a moment as she turned the light on, and then the door shut.

Draco lay back down and tried not to listen to the muted sounds of Hermione using the loo. He focused instead on the shadows on his ceiling. This was quickly becoming his new habit, he had realized, whenever his brain needed to mull something over.

Like Hermione Granger.

Hermione. The muggle-born witch he had tormented for almost their entire school career.

Hermione. The Ministry witch who broke down his walls with her persistence and Gryfffindor stubbornness.

Hermione. The woman he took to bed tonight. Not because he wanted sex. Because he needed _her_.

The door opened, and light spilled into the bedroom. Draco turned slightly to watch as Hermione crossed the room back to bed and got up beside him. "Your turn."

Draco heaved himself off the bed and padded across the room to facilitate his needs. When he came back out he saw that Hermione was now lying at the head of the bed, curled up on her side, waiting for him.

"How close to dawn do you think it is?" She asked as Draco approached.

Draco pulled one curtain back and peered out at the London cityscape. The sky was still mostly dark blue overhead. In the east, though, he could see the faintest lightening to the sky. "A few hours. Maybe less." Draco surmised, and flicked the curtain shut.

~S~

They finally extricated themselves from Draco's bed after the sun was well up and slanting through the curtains. Hermione opted to return to her flat, wanting to give Draco time alone with this thoughts to process everything from last night and prepare himself for seeing his mother. He kissed her goodbye at the Floo, with the sheet wrapped around his waist. Draco held her tight, fingers digging into her hips as his lips slid over hers. It was deep and desperate. He didn't want her to go. Hermione knew he didn't, but it was for the best. She doubted Narcissa was ready to accept her as her son's significant other. And Hermione wasn't going to push it on the widow.

Draco squeezed her hips one more time then pulled back, but his hands remained planted, rubbing up and down her sides. "Let me know if you need anything." Hermione requested, as her hands slid from around his neck down to his chest.

"Don't go." Draco smiled.

"I don't want to. But I know you mother isn't ready for this."

Draco sighed, but the smile didn't falter. "I know you're right. And I know my mother isn't ready…" He trailed off for a moment and closed his eyes. "I just want her to know how…" He paused again looking unsure. Draco didn't know how much he wanted to reveal right away and wasn't in the habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve. "…How at peace I feel." He finished in a quiet voice.

Hermione's face fell. She had thought for a moment he would say 'happy'. But she would settle for peaceful. She understood. She quickly composed her features into a soft smile and leaned up to peck Draco on his mouth one time more. "Maybe I'll see you tonight?"

"Maybe. I don't want to promise. My mother and I have a lot to discuss today."

Hermione imagined they did. Lucius had been the family patriarch, and now that he was gone, Draco inherited the role. He had a choice, of course, to refuse and pass the title to his mother. Hermione knew he wouldn't. He would not put that kind of strain on his mother's shoulders. She wondered if Draco and his mother could jointly hold the title, even temporarily. But that was a thought for another day.

For now, she let Draco wrap her up in his arms and press a final kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll see you tomorrow if not tonight." Draco could promise this at least.

"Tomorrow it is then." Hermione accepted. She pulled away at last and stepped toward the Floo.

Draco watched her go, feeling a mix of longing and relief. He wanted Hermione to stay with him. To go with him to see his mother. At the same time, though, he was almost glad she had accepted his agreement to not display their relationship so openly in front of his mother. It was going to be hard enough dealing with everything without adding a relationship on top of it.

When they were ready they could come forward.

For now, it would be a secret. Or as much of one as they could make it.


End file.
